AVA
The cramp hit like a blade twisting behind my ribs, sharp and unforgiving, cutting through the remnants of sleep with merciless precision. I bolted upright in bed, sheets tangling around my legs in a chaotic mess that trapped me for a terrifying second, and the room spun hard enough to slam my shoulder into the nightstand with a dull thud that echoed in my skull.
6:47 a.m.
Gray London light leaked through the curtains like a reluctant witness to my suffering, casting long, indifferent shadows across the marble floor.
My stomach lurched violently, a wave of nausea rising so fast I could taste bitter bile climbing my throat. I barely reached the toilet before everything came up—bitter, burning, relentless waves that left me gasping for air, my body trembling with exhaustion and the c
