Morning sickness hit Liora like a freight train.
She barely made it to the bathroom before her stomach emptied itself. Kneeling on the cold tile, forehead pressed against the porcelain, she heard Leander's wheelchair in the hallway.
"Liora? Are you okay?"
"Fine!" she called out, flushing quickly. "Just... something I ate."
"I'm coming in."
"No! I mean—" She grabbed a towel, wiping her mouth. "I'll be right out."
When she emerged, Leander was waiting outside the bathroom, his face creased with concern. His hands gripped the wheelchair armrests—he still couldn't maneuver it himself fully, but he was trying.
"You're pale," he observed. "Maybe you should stay home today."
"I'm okay. Really." Liora forced a smile. "Probably just a stomach bug."
"Or morning sickness." Leander's face lit
