Deepwood Weald Ahead by a Century

She gave her husband a pained expression when he complimented her. Was she really doing all that well? She’d been moody and distant during her pregnancy and now here she was- overwhelmed, flummoxed, impatient; none of the things that would make her a good wife. 

”How soon is soon?” She asked, exhasperated, unable to keep her temper in check. She looked to Raindrop whose well-intended soothing served only to irk her more. She rolled her eyes so dramatically that it was nearly audible, before she was hit with another crippling contraction. Karma. 

She didn’t feel like laying down, the only peace she got was when she kept moving. She tried, just to humour the woman- but found herself too uncomfortable, and began to pace again. She didn’t hear the woman’s howl, and barely noticed her husband’s glee, even when he announced that it was his mother who had called. 

Her brain was busy. She was not interested in meeting her mother-in-law, not like this. She summoned a smile that was both parchment thin and short-lived, and nodded as if to say very well dear, but I can’t think about that now.

Around and around she went, crouching when a contraction came, and trying to keep her breaths even in between. The time between them shortened even more still. ”Ugh,” she grunted, when her pain ceased momentarily. ”I need air,” She said, and swept past her husband to emerge into the daylight, and take in a deep, replenishing breath of air.