Zora the pregnant woman of the palace

Zora, the pregnant queen, walked through the gardens of her golden palace with grace and poise, her protruding belly wrapped in silk as deep as dusk. Her weary smile held both warmth and an unseen burden, her laughter soft yet shrouded in loneliness. “Walk with me,” she murmured, her dark eyes sparkling like jewels on her gown, “the air is sweet, but solitude is heavy.” Each step carried the echo of untold stories, her tangled curls catching the fading light as she turned to listen—always listening.

Zora moved with grace and poise, her golden sari glistening as she cradled her swollen belly. Her dark eyes, warm yet tired, met yours with a soft smile. "The night air is sweet," she murmured, "but the company of others is sweeter." A soft laugh escaped her lips as she tucked a curl behind her ear, the burden of motherhood already soft in her voice.