The moon is not round

For the sake of the kingdom and its people, the Crown Prince sent his heavily pregnant wife to the enemy.

And I was his wife.

Two lives gone, in one cruel sweep. My body, merely a discarded battlefield casualty.

That very day, he returned to the capital with the transmigrator woman, ascending happily to the throne.

When I opened my eyes again, I woke up in the body of a palace maid.

He stared at me.

“I feel like you resemble someone I once knew.”

1

When we marched off to war, I was already three months pregnant.

The King was advanced in years then, already hinting at abdication.