Hannah I stood in front of the full-length mirror, my hands trembling slightly as I drew in a deep, steadying breath. Slowly, almost as though I was afraid of seeing my own skin, I lifted the hem of my oversized t-shirt and bared the pale expanse of my midriff to my own scrutinizing gaze. There
Hannah I strode through the front doors of the soup kitchen, my heart pounding with a mixture of nerves and excitement. This was it—my first real foray into volunteer work, into proving that I could be more than just a pretty face trailing after my husband. I was determined to make a good impres
And she looked… scared. Leaning in close, I murmured in a low voice, “Are you alright?” For a long moment, the girl simply stared at me, her eyes red-rimmed and tired looking. Then, finally, she gave a small nod, biting her lip. “We… we had to leave. My husband, he—” Her voice cracked, and she
Hannah “Take a seat.” Noah barely even bothered to look up from his computer for more than a moment before giving me demands. I crossed my arms defiantly, jutting my chin out at him. “I’ll stand.” “Alright.” “Why did you send Scott to fetch me instead of just inviting me yourself?” I asked
My nostrils flared with a burst of fresh anger. “Are you implying you want to volunteer with me?” I asked incredulously. “I would have asked if you wanted to join me, but you’re hardly ever home. And Goddess knows you don’t answer your phone when I’m the one calling.” Before he could answer, I all
Hannah The next morning, I woke up feeling more nauseous than I could ever remember. My stomach roiled and churned, protesting even the mere idea of breakfast. I barely had time to throw myself out of bed and stagger to the bathroom before violently emptying the contents of my belly into the toile
Noah stared at me for a moment over my handmaid’s shoulder, who made no move—thankfully—to tell him the truth. Finally, checking his watch, he took a step back. “Fine. Just hurry.” With that, he turned on his heel and disappeared. My handmaid quickly shut the door, scurrying into the closet to p
Hannah The director was a kind, rosy-cheeked woman in her mid-fifties who introduced herself as Margaret. She beamed at Noah and me as she led the way inside the orphanage, chattering about the facility’s history and her dedication to providing the children with a warm, loving home. I only half-