Chapter 67
"Alright!" I declared with triumph, admiring my latest masterpiece, the very first completed tale written by none other than myself.
I grinned so widely I thought my face might split, the sheer satisfaction of my accomplishment filling me with warmth. "Look at me, a true author at last."
Dr. Barly chuckled.
I leaned back in my chair, one hand resting over my stomach while the other clutched the story. "This," I announced with great reverence, "is titled The Frog Stole the Cookie!"
Clearing my throat, I softened my voice, addressing the child within. "Now listen closely," I murmured indulgently. "For this is a tale of great importance, filled with mischief, and the ever-elusive art of cookie thievery. In a kingdom far, far away, nestled between the whispering forest and the lazy streams, there lived a most peculiar frog. He was not like the other frogs, no, for he had a grand ambition. He wished to be the finest, most celebrated thief in all the land."
A faint movement answered me. I gasped dramatically. "Ah, I see I have captured your attention. You are most discerning, my love, an excellent listener already."
The child gave another small shift, as though in agreement.
"Now, this frog, Leopold, had his eyes set upon the most coveted treasure in all the kingdom. Not gold, nor jewels, nor a crown, no, something far more precious. A cookie. But not just any cookie, my darling, the royal cookie, baked only once a year by the palace's head chef."
Another small nudge.
"Oh, you wish to know how Leopold intended to claim this legendary confection? Patience, my little one, patience. The art of storytelling requires suspense."
I shifted slightly in my chair, adjusting the folds of my gown as I continued.
"The cunning Leopold devised a plan most devious. Under the cover of night, when the moon was high and the castle guards dozed with their bellies full of stew, he crept through the palace gardens, his tiny webbed feet silent against the stone."
I stroked my stomach absently, feeling the warmth of my own voice as it wrapped around the both of us.
"But, ah, as fate would have it, our dear Leopold was not alone. For the castle's resident cat, an insufferable busybody named Madame Whiskerton, had been watching, her sharp golden eyes glinting in the darkness. The moment our hero made his move, she let out a terrible cry 'Thief! Thief!' alerting the entire palace!"
A distinct, almost forceful kick against my palm made me chuckle. "Yes, quite the dramatic twist, is it not? You do have a flair for theatrics, my love. It seems you have inherited that from me."
Another small movement. I sighed, genuine warmth blooming in my chest.
"Now, should Leopold be captured and cast into the dungeons, never to taste the sweet delight of the royal cookie?" I paused, awaiting a response. A light flutter beneath my palm.
"I agree. That would be far too cruel. And so, I granted him a stroke of luck. Just as the guards gave chase, our clever little frog did what no thief before him had ever dared. He leapt, with all his might, straight into the grand chocolate fountain at the center of the banquet hall, vanishing into the rich, swirling depths before emerging victorious, cookie clutched triumphantly in his tiny green hands!"
Another kick, stronger this time.
I grinned. "Ah, I see, you approve of his audacity. You shall be trouble, little one, I can already tell."
Dr. Barly abruptly lifted a hand to her face, as though to shield herself from something unbearable, and without another word, she turned and fled from the room.
A heavy silence settled upon me, pressing down like the weight of an unseen hand. Slowly, I lowered my gaze to my stomach, my fingers grazing over the swell.
"I do not know if I shall ever get to meet you," I whispered.
A dull ache spread through my chest.
I swallowed against the lump rising in my throat, pressing my palm more firmly against the curve of my belly, as if the closeness might bind us together in defiance of whatever fate had planned.
"Will you remember me?" I murmured. "Will you know that I was here, that I loved you?"
No answer came. Only the quiet. Only the rhythmic thrum of my own heartbeat, a frail and fleeting lullaby.
I closed my eyes.
Perhaps it was better this way. Perhaps it would be less painful if I were nothing more than a ghost to this child, a fleeting whisper of something lost before it could ever truly be held.