Servants gathered discreetly at the edges of the room, their faces full of pity and sympathy for the "grieving widow." Esme's fingers grazed the frame, her movements slow and deliberate, as though lost in an emotional trance.
Her hand glided over Ray's face in the photo, her expression somber. But inside, her thoughts were an entirely different story. Oh my God, my husband looks so cute in this picture. What did I do to deserve someone so adorable? she gushed internally.
Her fingers trembled slightly as she traced the photo, an effect the servants misinterpreted as overwhelming sadness. In truth, Esme's mind was racing with excitement. What should I name the baby? she mused. If it's a boy, something strong but cute. And if it's a girl—oh, it doesn't matter! They're my baby, and I'll love them no matter what!