Yurena Pov
I love my son, but my hatred for Alma is stronger than that love.
"Love, are you okay?" Miles asks, his warm touch resting on my hand. I nod, tugging the blanket tighter around me. "You know you can talk to me, right? You can tell me anything," he says, offering me a soft smile as his fingers brush my cheek.
No. This is something I can’t talk to you about, Miles. The secrets I hold, the ones I’ve buried deep, would ruin this family if they ever came to light.
"I’m fine, Miles. When am I not?" I murmur, turning away from him on the bed. I know if I look at him any longer, I’ll end up crying, and that would make everything I’ve done from lying to Torin today and ruining Oril’s life, all for nothing.
I hear Miles sigh behind me before he switches off the lights and sinks into the bed, his hand sliding to my waist. This will all be behind me soon. Lorali wouldn’t dare speak of this matter.
I close my eyes and wait for the darkness to take me.
"What do babies eat?" I ask, rocking the wailing infant in my arms. Thank the goddess that Alma’s rooms are impeccably soundproofed, or else I would have been caught by now.
"Milk, I think. My mother breastfed my sister," Cleovera answers, her gaze lifting briefly from her knitting. She’s making clothes for the baby, her hands deft and patient. I am forever grateful for her help. Without her, I would have died in labor or worse, been expelled from Alma.
"I’m supposed to put my breast in her mouth? How will she know to suck? She’s just a baby," I ask, tilting my head. I know it sounds foolish, but I’m new to this. I’ve only been a mother for a week.
"Yu, that’s so stupid. It’s like asking how does a baby know how to poop," she laughs, bringing her gaze back down to her knitting.
"How does a baby know how to poop?" I press, genuinely curious.
"They just know!"
That’s odd. If they can poop on their own and know how to drink milk, why can’t they walk, crawl, or sit up? If you can poop, surely you can walk. Maybe not talk—that requires skill—but still.