Morning arrived like a secret whispered through the curtains. Soft light spilled into the room, catching on dust motes and linen folds, stretching slowly across the floor like it was testing its welcome.
I slipped out of bed, the floor cool under my feet as I crossed to the window. Morning softened everything. The candles were still faintly scented from the night before, the scent of lavender and vanilla curling through the cracked pane.
I made my way to the kitchen and put the kettle on. Tea was supposed to be part of my new morning routine. Something grounding. Gentle. Predictable.
The moment the steam hit my face, my stomach protested with sharp, undeniable rebellion.
“Nope.”
I barely made it to the bathroom, sinking to my knees just in time. Cold porcelain against my skin, one han
