The first sign came with the smell of coffee.Avern had always loved coffee—dark, rich, grounding. It had been her comfort since her Manila days, her silent companion during late nights and early mornings. So when the aroma drifted through the kitchen and her stomach lurched violently instead of warming, she froze.“No,” she whispered to herself, gripping the counter.She barely made it to the sink before gagging.Cairo, who had been humming while preparing breakfast, turned around instantly. “Avern? Hey—what’s wrong?”“Don’t—” She held up a hand sharply, her face pale. “Don’t come near me.”He stopped mid-step, startled. “Did I—do something?”She shook her head, breathing hard, nausea rolling through her like a wave that refused to pass. “The smell. I can’t—just—please.”Cairo immediately opened the windows, turned off the stove, and moved with the kind of urgency reserved for emergencies. “I’ll throw it out. I’m sorry, love. I didn’t know.”She didn’t answer. She couldn’t. The dizzi
Zuletzt aktualisiert : 2026-08-05 Mehr lesen