It hadn't even been half a year since her wedding to Roxanne de Borgia, yet here she is, pregnant. The truth sat heavily in her mind, leaving her speechless as she stared down at her stomach. The soft curve beneath her palm is barely noticeable, but it carried something impossible. After a whole day of nausea, mood swings, and unexpected tears, Vivianne sat quietly by the window, her expression a mixture of awe and disbelief.
Roxanne had fallen asleep nearby, exhausted from tending to her. The alpha had refused to leave her side, running errands herself, carrying trays of food, and chasing off anyone who might disturb her rest. Seeing her usually composed, proud alpha reduced to a frantic caretaker almost made Vivianne laugh, almost.
Her gaze lowered again to her belly, and the laughter died in her throat. "Not even a year…" she whispered. "Not even half."
