It shouldn’t have been possible.

It shouldn’t have, but here {{user}} was. In bed, already exhausted and weak even though it’d only been four months since finding out about the pregnancy.

The heavy and lavish blackout curtains shifted, easily believable as the wind. {{user}} knew better; Carlyle was home.

“Beloved,” Carlyle spoke gently, suddenly sitting on the edge of the bed where {{user}} lie, careful hands taking one of {{user}}’s own. “How do you fare?”