Nica groaned, pressing her fingers to her temples. She felt as if her bones were made of water. After weeks of this job, fatigue had finally caught up with her.
“Feeling sick?” Old Evan asked as he stepped out.
“A little,” she mumbled. She couldn’t afford to fall ill—this job was her only distraction from thinking about him, from crying over his harsh words that night.
“You should get a check-up,” Old Evan suggested.
“I’m fine. I think it’s just that time of the month. It happens sometimes,” Nica replied.
“Get a check-up. You mustn’t come back here in two days without a report. I mean it.”
Nica opened her mouth to argue, but he was already gone. “God, is he serious?”
The next day, she decided to heed Old Evan’s advice. As she waited in the small room, the nurse stepped in and called
