The morning light trickled softly so through the half-drawn curtains, casting pale gold rays across the fur blanket covering Jasmine's still form.
The room was quiet now—too quiet. Only the gentle rustle of trees outside and the distant murmur of water filled the air.
Nanny Nia sat by the bed, her fingers clasped tightly around Jasmine's pale hand. She hadn't left her side since the night before.
Her eyes were rimmed red flag with exhaustion, but she couldn't rest. Not until she was sure. Not until Jasmine came back.
She had been awake all night.
Barely able to sleep.
She was worried that if she slept, then somehow harm would come to Jasmine.
She took in a deep breath and looked at Jasmine still unconscious.
Even with her scar and red hair, she was ever beautiful.
Nanny Nia thought about the fact that the dead baby was still here.
Marie had thought to dispose of it, Nanny Nia could remember.
