Hannah
It was quiet as I laid in bed, the room completely dark save for the last bit of sunlight peeking through the curtains. I pressed the cool washcloth a bit harder against my aching forehead, yearning for relief.
My hand ran up and down across my belly as I laid there—at least my baby wasn’t hurt. I had only hit my head when I fell.
Only, I thought to myself with a snort. It was still bad enough that I had hit my head.
And my husband was still nowhere to be found.
“Luna Hannah?” a soft voice pulled me out of my reverie. I cracked my eyes open to see none other than my maid, Ana, poking her head through the door.
“Ana,” I croaked out, sitting up a little further. “Please, come in.”
Ana walked into the room with a tray in her hands; upon closer inspection, it
