RAVENNA
I woke up to the smell of something sweet. Buttery, garlicky and warm.
At first, I thought I was dreaming, that my cravings had finally gotten powerful enough to create phantom aromas. I blinked at the ceiling. The sun was already pouring in through the curtains, and I had slept longer than usual. That was rare.
My baby gave a gentle kick, like a tap on my insides.
You’re late, he seemed to say.
“Don’t judge me,” I mumbled and sat up slowly, groaning as my back popped. “We made it through another night without running for our lives. Let’s call it a win.”
My feet hit the floor, and the smell got stronger.
Toast, herbs, eggs?
I moved toward the stairs in my robe and peeked down into the kitchen.
Elias.
He was standing by the stove, humming, in his brown tunic, sleeves rolle
