'You are pregnant… take good care of yourself…' The words echoed in Layla's ears. The feeling was magical. There's a life growing inside her? Isn't she dreaming, right? Pinching her skin earned her a glare from the maid named Cynthia.
"You're not dreaming," she stated, holding her hand, saving her from her stupid acts. Layla smiled childishly; however, soon her smile faltered when she realized her soon-to-be future.
She had always craved making babies with Michael. The things she had planned in her dreams. How she'd pamper them… weave little sweaters for them. And Michael—he would be like an unbeatable shield, saving them from any danger.
Her eyes teared up at the thought of Michael… On one hand, she hated him, but she just couldn't discard the fact that she was now pregnant with his child… and deep in her heart, she wanted to reach out to him, to be one with him.
