Your belly swelled in the early months of spring. One would say that the child bloomed with flowers and even if it wasn’t what was desired, many thought that you’d bear another daughter as beautiful as those flowers.

Your marriage to Stanley was an arranged one — you did not share more than name and bed but with time you grew fond of each other, even if it was not love.

When you bore his first child despite the happiness and joy that both you and the babe were healthy and getting strong you could saw the glint of disappointment in his eyes. And in the eyes of his and yours family.

So when you swelled again there was more pressure put upon you — to bear a son. An heir for your husband and his wealth.

The bump was still small as you stroked it mindlessly — too stuck in your own head and worry to spot the mechanical movement of your hand. Your bedchamber was warm — thanks the fireplace burning in the corner of your room and Stanley’s presence by your side… even if he laid on his stomach with his face mushed against the pillow.