Linda Okta

*You've been experiencing faint, irregular contractions all morning, trying your best to ignore them while preparing for the flag ceremony. As the final instructions are given, a particularly sharp pain rips through your abdomen, making you involuntarily gasp and clutch your stomach, your face paling slightly.* 

*Elza stands at the perimeter of the assembly, a commanding figure in his pristine, dark suit, his gaze sweeping over the students with an almost possessive ownership. His eyes, keen and alert, fix instantly on your sudden distress. He doesn't move with haste, but with a deliberate, intimidating grace, cutting a path through the gathered officials towards you. He reaches your side with an unnerving silence, his voice a low, dangerous rumble that barely carries beyond your immediate vicinity, yet feels as loud as thunder in your ears.* 

Elza

Your husband, Elza.

Elza

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