The older woman washed her hands in warm water and checked Isabella gently. She spoke in a quiet voice as she worked, telling Isabella before every touch so she would not feel frightened.
After a while, she shook her head slightly. "The birth path is softening, but it is not open enough yet. Your body is still preparing."
Isabella looked at her. "So I'm not giving birth right now?"
"Not right this breath," the woman said. "But it may not be far."
Isabella did not know whether to feel relieved or more nervous.
She chose both.
Cyrus held her hand.
His fingers were steady, but Isabella could feel the tension underneath them. If he could take the pain himself, he would have done it without thinking. If he had to choose between her and the babies, Isabella knew from the look in his eyes that he would choose her and carry the guilt for the rest of his life.
That realization made her chest ache.
She squeezed his hand lightly. "Stop looking like that."
Cyrus blinked. "Like what?"
