I woke up to the sharp pang of nausea hitting me like a freight train. My stomach was a swirl of discomfort, making the mere thought of breakfast unbearable. Enzo, lying beside me, seemed to sense my discomfort before I even articulated it, his eyes clouded with residual tension from our argument last night.

"Morning," he said, his voice cautious. "How are you feeling?"

*Not great," I admitted, clutching my belly. "Morning sickness is a nightmare."

He looked concerned, sitting up. "Let's get you something to eat, then. Something to settle your stomach."

"I guess," I muttered, my heart sinking at the thought. I could almost smell the hotel breakfast from here-syrupy French toast, eggs, bacon-all of which made my stomach churn.

He noticed my hesitation and furrowed his brow. "What's wrong?"

"It's just..." I began, nearly choking on the words, "the smell alone will make me sick, I'm afraid."

Enzo sighed, getting out of bed and beginning to dig through his bag for some clothes. "Alright, how about this? We'll ditch the hotel breakfast and get you something you could actually stomach.. I think there's a cafe down the street; maybe they will have something that won't make you queasy."

"No, don't worry about me. I can just make some dry toast here," I offered, not wanting to trouble him, especially after our argument last night.

Enzo looked at me like I had grown two heads. "I'm not just going to let my pregnant wife lay alone in a hotel room eating dry toast. No way."

Before I could argue, he was slipping his hoodie over his head, brushing his teeth, and holding out his hand for me to take it. "Come on, let's go."

As we walked hand-in-hand down the street, I felt my moming fog lifting, replaced by a newfound appetite triggered by the inviting aroma emanating from the cafe. The scent of herbal tea and freshly baked bread filled the air, instantly comforting my roiling stomach and the clenching sensation in my throat.

of a comfort as the scent of

guilt. Despite our argument last night, here he was, doing everything he

tea, fresh

looks amazing," I said, taking it

the tray down. "I figured you'd like the croissants.

one up, taking a bite and relishing the velvety chocolate and flaky pastry. "I don't know what I did

existed," he replied, softly. "That's all

I said quietly. "You're

spoke volumes. "It's nothing. Nina. Absolutely nothing

both of us still waking up. But as I savored the last bite of my chocolate croissant, I could

last night, still

Can we talk?" Enzo finally

I

still bothers me that you felt

"Look, Enzo, I'm not embarrassed

and my ex-boyfriend had just cheated on me that very night. Our story can

Hell, it is messy no matter how

shrugged. "So what? Every love story is messy in its own way. Ours is no different. And besides, it's not like you'd need

she would have gotten it out of me sooner

I already told you that you don't need to worry about Mila. And besides, if you're so concerned about how it sounds,

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