Evan escorted Jocelyn back to her residence. As she exited the vehicle, she flashed him a foxy grin, blowing him a kiss, completely disregarding Zoe's presence.
He said he cut the tie? Ha.
For some reason, Zoe found herself chuckling.
Evan turned around, his brows furrowing. "What's wrong with you?"
She didn't answer, merely lowering her head.
As the year neared its end, Evan, genuinely busy, hired a nanny to care for her and hadn't been home for several days. His presence or absence mattered less and less to her.
The weather grew colder, and the sun rarely shone. She abandoned her spot on the balcony, instead spending her days in bed, curtains drawn, staring blankly at the silent walls. These sessions of emptiness could stretch on for an entire day.
Mrs. Aldrich entered the room, a tray of food in hand. "Ma'am, it's time for dinner."
Zoe seemed not to hear, her eyes fixed unwaveringly on the wall in front of her. Mrs. Aldrich sighed softly, tiptoeing in to place the tray on the bedside table. In the two weeks she'd been here, she had yet to hear Zoe speak, leading her to wonder if she was mute.
Thoughtful Mrs. Aldrich prepared everything meticulously and tried again to coax her, "Ma'am, please eat something first."
A fishy smell wafted into Zoe's nostrils, causing her to gag. She slipped off the bed in her bare feet and rushed to the bathroom. Mrs. Aldrich hurried after her.
The issue likely lay with the fish, the scent too overpowering.
After the meal, night had fallen. Zoe hadn't eaten much; she simply couldn't.
Mrs. Aldrich advised, "This isn't good, Ma'am. You're pregnant now, you need proper nutrition..."
Zoe shook her head, hugging her pillow tightly. Mrs. Aldrich sighed and removed the mostly untouched meal.
In the early hours of the morning, Zoe opened her eyes. She walked to the window, drew back the curtains, and beheld a world blanketed in white. It was snowing, the season's first snowfall.
Legend has it that the first person to tell you it's snowing must care for you deeply.
Zoe couldn't forget the winter when Evan built her a snowman, his face and hands red from the cold, grinning like a fool, repeating:
"Zoe, I like you."
It was their sophomore year.
The snow continued to fall relentlessly. She returned to bed.
Despite not encountering any offending odors, her nausea intensified, sending her repeatedly rushing to the bathroom to retch.
December 29th.
Zoe leaned against the headboard, drowsy.
Sounds at the door barely registered. Evan returned, weariness etched on his face. Seeing her, his eyebrows furrowed slightly.
He lifted the covers on his side and got into bed.
She detected a hint of perfume, triggering her nausea. She got out of bed, barefoot, and headed for the bathroom.
Evan followed, rubbing her back soothingly.
Why was her morning sickness so severe?
She wiped away the tears that had escaped and accepted the glass of water he offered.
Zoe turned her head, rinsing her mouth with a sip.
Evan leaned in, but she pushed him away.
"What's wrong?" His eyebrows knitted together again, dissatisfaction clear in his expression.
She placed the cup on the countertop, attempting to sidestep him, but he grabbed her wrist.
"What's really going on?"
Evan was genuinely displeased now. What was her problem? In over two months, she had barely spoken to him.
Throwing a tantrum?
She lifted her gaze to meet his, her eyes empty, devoid of vitality.
After a moment, she lowered her lids and freed herself from his grasp.
"Evan," he persisted, trailing after her. "Are you throwing another fit?"
Zoe stopped in her tracks, turning to look at him.
