Emma’s POV
The first clear sign hit me that morning.
I stood at the counter pouring tea when the rich aroma of Richard’s coffee suddenly twisted my stomach. One moment the scent was comforting and didn’t trigger anything in my belly, the next it hit me like a wall. My mouth flooded with saliva. The room tilted.
I set the mug down fast, hand over my mouth, and barely reached the bathroom before dry-heaving over the sink.
Nothing came up, just harsh, empty retches that left me shaking and breathless. I gripped the cool porcelain, heart racing, sweat prickling along my hairline.
Morning sickness?
Or only nerves?
I splashed cold water on my face, staring at my pale reflection in the mirror. Five days since the implantation and ritual. Too early for real symptoms, the doctor had said. Bu
