As they whispered, I felt a flood of questions surging in my mind. Had something gone wrong? Were they concerned for my health? I glanced at Michelle, who was biting her lip as if to hold back her own torrent of anxiety.
she said, and I felt the room narrow, time stretching as her words settled like stones in my chest. “You may not be pregnant in the conventional sense.”
The morning light filtered softly through the lace curtains, casting delicate patterns across the faded floral wallpaper of my bedroom. I could hear the familiar sound of birds chirping outside, a chorus that had been the backdrop to my mornings for decades. As I lay in bed, the world outside felt both familiar and distant, like an old photograph fading at the edges, and then, a sudden thought pierced through my consciousness.
