Elvira
The silence was a living thing.
For a moment, neither of us moved. Elyra stood frozen in the doorway, her hand splayed protectively across her stomach. And me? I was still trying to breathe, still trying to understand what I was seeing, what I was feeling.
She looked… different. Softer and rounder. Not just from the obvious swell of her stomach, but from something else, something in her eyes. The Elyra I remembered had always worn her emotions like armor, hard and sharp and untouchable. But now… her gaze trembled. Like the mere sight of me might unravel her.
“Elvira,” she whispered again, stepping further into the room.
I blinked and found my voice. “Elyra… gods, it’s been…how long?”
“Seven months,” she said with a half-smile, brushing her curls behind her ear. “Maybe more.”
