POV: Yessica | Location: Edinburgh
The ovens woke her at five.
Yessica lay in the narrow bed, staring at the ceiling, listening to metal trays clatter below. The smell crept through the floorboards first — yeast, butter, something warm she couldn't name.
Nothing like the penthouse.
Nothing like Lewis's world of silence and marble.
Perfect.
She sat up slowly. The room tilted. Morning sickness, exhaustion — impossible to tell where one ended and the other began. Sixteen weeks and her body still hadn't decided which it preferred: nausea or fatigue.
Both, apparently.
The flat was exactly what the listing promised. One room. Kitchenette in the corner. Bathroom barely big enough to turn around in. Furniture that looked salvaged from a charity shop.
Hers.
All hers.
Her suitcase sat uno
