Amy’s POV
The doctor said it was a clean wound, but the dull ache in my arm refused to go away. I had wrapped it under my sweater and told everyone it was just a fall, though the truth burned under the bandage.
It had been two days since Queen stabbed me. Two days of pretending life was normal.
This morning, I decided to take baby Zayn out....My little boy deserved a day that didn’t smell like antiseptic or smoke. He was growing fast, thanks to his dad's super genes.
The park near Woods Kindergarten was lively—mothers chatting, strollers rolling, kids running around with bright balloons. I sat under a shaded tree with a few of the other moms, cradling Zayn in my arms. His small fingers tugged at my sleeve, oblivious to everything.
“Is your arm okay, Amy?” one of the mothers asked.
“
