The city never really slept. Even from her tiny apartment, Aria could hear its heartbeat — cars sighing down the road, distant laughter, the occasional shout breaking through the night. She’d grown used to it. It was the only company she had.
The café had been busy that day. Too busy. Her back ached, her feet burned, and her palms still smelled faintly of coffee beans and dish soap.
She had worked straight through her lunch again, ignoring the dizziness that came in short, sharp waves. The few tips she earned sat folded inside a cracked jar near her bed — not much, but enough to keep the lights on a little longer.
She dropped her bag on the chair and sank onto the thin mattress, pressing her palm over her stomach.
“Just a few more weeks,” she whispered, half to herself, half to the ba
