A light drizzle had started, misting the air and making the canvas awnings sag with collected water.

You shifted the weight in your arms, adjusting the bundle wrapped tight against your chest. A tiny fist escaped the blanket, no bigger than a peach, before tucking back into the warmth.

Your hood was pulled low, the damp wool scratching your jaw. You reached for a bag of potatoes from the stall, your movements careful, measured.

A voice cut through the noise, nearby. A male voice, familiar in a way that sent a cold spike down your spine.

He turned to his companion, broad shoulders tensing as he scanned the crowd.

You stumbled, clutching the baby tighter, your heart lurching into your throat.

A hand caught your elbow, steadying you.

You looked up.

Blonde hair, cut short. Steel-blue eyes, wide and unblinking. That jaw, sharper than you remembered, slack with shock.