Prologue
The city was still asleep when I woke up soaked.
“Damn… I can’t believe I peed on myself in my sleep,” I muttered, dragging my heavy body out of the king-sized bed. My swollen feet pressed into the sheepskin rug with a soft thud as I waddled toward the bathroom, the Manhattan skyline stretching wide and arrogant just beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows.
Six months pregnant, and already I felt like I was carrying a whole world inside me—one that refused to let me rest.
I cleaned myself up quickly, half-asleep, barely registering the discomfort in my lower back. The digital clock glowed from the wall.
5:45 a.m.
I sighed out loud, rubbing my belly.“Ugh, little girl… you’re really gonna have to get a grip on this sleeping pattern. Mama’s not built to be up before dawn every damn day. These last two months? They gon’ be a test.”
I managed a soft smile as I walked back to bed, thinking maybe I could squeeze out another hour before my schedule started demanding things from me. But then—I felt it.
Not a kick.Not a cramp.But a slow, warm rush of liquid sliding down my thigh.No pressure. No warning. Just fluid.
I froze mid-step. My heart skipped.
I reached down with trembling fingers and brought them back up glistening—clear, not yellow. Slick.
And cold panic set in.
“Oh fuck…”
My voice cracked.
“…that isn’t pee.”
