Just a tiny little bump. Just… Just an apple. I’m drawn to it like a magnet, holding her hips as I press my forehead to the small swell of her belly. Father preaches a lot of bullshit, but I think I see it now. The power of creation. It sinks into me like a soothing balm, much like the flutter of Verity’s fingers in my hair, stilted but unwavering.
