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Proserpina

Lucien had informed me of his intention to leave that night for Argentina. Some urgent matter had come up, he said, pressing his lips to my forehead as he prepared to leave.

I hugged him tightly, wishing he did not have to go.

‘Woman, He grunted, his mouth seeking my lips greedily, possessively, ‘I might be gone for a week. I do not want you to leave the house when I am away, is that clear?’

He tugged at my lower lip to make his words crystal clear.

I whispered,

‘Come back soon. I want you to be with me when I meet the doctor.’

Immediately his eyes narrowed and he pulled himself away to grip my chin,

“What is wrong? Is it our son…?’ his hand went protectively to my belly.

I smiled half-heartedly.

I was feeling unusually weary and tired; I wanted to get a check-up. Something was not quite right. From what I had calculated and from the initial visit to a doctor I was not too comfortable with in New York, I knew I must be in the tenth week of my pregnancy.

Early days yet. But t
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