I woke up to the familiar twist in my gut that meant I had approximately ten seconds to make it to the bathroom. The nausea hit like a freight train, sending me lurching from my bed and across the room, barely making it to the toilet before everything came up.
Morning sickness was a cruel joke. It wasn’t just morning—it was all day, random moments of my body deciding it hated everything I’d eaten. But first thing after waking was the worst, like my body had been storing up all night just to make sure I started my day hunched over a toilet bowl.
I was so caught up in my misery that I didn’t hear the knock at first. When I finally registered it, I couldn’t exactly answer. The bathroom door cracked open.
“Arianna?” Kieran’s voice was rough with sleep. “You okay?”
I would have laughed if I
