What I feel.

Anastasia's POV.

“Bring them over here, Ginny.” I said, making way for her.

I watched as she struggled with lifting the large wooden crate of vegetables on the cart. We were supposed to transfer about twenty of them to the kitchen store this morning and we have only carried two. I can't blame us though; here I am, a helpless pregnant maid who isn't even meant to be seen doing strenuous work and Ginny, well, her arms are just too slender.

“Here, let me help,” I said as I approached her.

“What? No, Anna, you're…” she objected, cutting herself off. Her eyes darted around to check if no one was within ear’s reach. “You're pregnant,” she whispered with concern etched in her tone.

I shrugged, “Pregnant, not helpless or lazy. Come on, let's lift this thing.” I said dismissively as I crouched to lift the crate.

She opened her mouth but closed it back and sighed, “If you say so,” she crouched also and on a countdown, we lifted the crated with our joint strength, unto the cart.

See, not so bad.