Ella
The sound of a knock on my office door makes me glance up from the stack of paperwork I've been trying to finish. I already know it's my last appointment for the day, so I don't bother standing to greet whoever it is. Instead, I call out, "Door's unlocked, you can come in."
The hinges creak, and when I look up again, I'm not prepared for what I see. Charlotte. Her baby bump is more pronounced than the last time I saw her, her loose clothes draping over it as though she's trying to hide something she can't. There's a smugness in her smile that sends a wave of sickness through me, but I try to return it with a polite, professional smile. It feels more like a grimace.