Each month that goes by, my belly swells. I cannot even stand straight, as it would bring too much pain to my back, so hunched over I stand.
I've not heard word from my husband and though I know he's fulfilling his role as the king's champion; he's failing me as a husband. Since the last visit, he's not tried to contact me again, and though I keep the others in check in case he tries to message me, not a word is heard from him.
I carry on my duties as the lady of the house, helping with the crops that are now spiking up in growth since spring has entered into season. Trade has gone well, and my father, bless the gods for him, checks in every now and then.
On my eighth month of pregnancy, I rub my swollen belly with wonder, sitting in the basin of water that's warm enough to soothe the aches of my body. Wonder continues to hit me as my palms press into the sides gently, feeling the little movement of the baby.
