I'd been discharged from the hospital three days ago, settling back into the routine—my endless Rapunzel hair now chopped shorter to a sleek bob just below my shoulders, swinging light and bouncy with every move, easier to manage amid constant changes.
Lactation hadn't quit; milk flowed steady generous without pregnancy, a wonderful endless supply that left me feeling fertile-full like a pampered cow, shirts soaking predictable every few hours despite Dr. Ana's creams and teas.
Ivory and Hellen were out for work—leaving me cozy on the living room couch with Reyes, sipping chilled apple juice sweet-tart through a straw, her cedar-steel scent grounding warm beside me.
She reached over casual, rubbing my short bob gentle with big fingers—tousling layers affectionate like petting a kitten. "So, Em—how you really feeling today? Are you feeling good?"
