(Isobel's Point Of View)
I woke up with a sharp pain in my lower abdomen.
For a moment I tried to ignore it, burrowing deeper into the blanket so the world felt muffled and distant. The cramp tightened like a fist and then unfurled, spreading across my stomach in a familiar, awful wave that made my breath hitch.
My period.
Of course. Because this week hadn't been complicated enough.
I groaned, curling my knees to my chest. The pain was worse than usual—hot and pulsing, as if every tiny nerve ending had been turned on at once. Stress had to be a factor; my muscles felt taut in places I hadn't noticed before. I pressed my palms flat to my belly and tried to slow my breathing, counting under my breath until the edges of the pain dulled a fraction.
"Isobel?"
I'd almost forgotten Etienne was there. He sat up beside me, the sheets whispering as he moved, concern immediately flooding his face.
"What's wrong?"
"Nothing. Just cramps."
"Bad?"
"Bad enough."
