As the bathroom door creaked open, Eleanor emerged, her face pale. My eyes widened with concern as I approached her. Eleanor's usually impeccable hair was now tangled and damp, her eyes sunken and her skin sallow. She had also washed off her make-up she spent so much time on. She leaned against the doorframe, her hand on her stomach, as if still trying to catch her breath.
"Are you okay?" I asked worried as I approached her.
"Don't come near me! Stay there." She said weakly and I stopped on my steps.
I felt a surge of worry as I watched her, my mind racing with possibilities. She suddenly had the urge to throw up after sniffing on the croissant I had brought from the kitchen. Maybe she was allergic to something in it?
Eleanor's gaze met mine, and for a moment, we just stared
