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.

Enzo guided me to a seat by the window, offering a warm smile that was just as much of a comfort as the scent of chocolate croissants in the air. "Why don't

our argument last night, here he was, doing everything he could to make me comfortable.

laden with food: herbal tea, fresh fruit, cream cheese bagels, and, to my absolute

amazing," I said,

"I figured you'd like the croissants. They're your favorite, after

bite and relishing the velvety chocolate and flaky pastry. "I don't know what I did

replied, softly. "That's

said

exchange that spoke volumes. "It's nothing. Nina. Absolutely nothing to do something like this

of my chocolate croissant, I could feel Enzo's gaze fixed on me. I

from last night, still lingering

um... Can we talk?" Enzo finally

I already knew

bothers me that

on the table. "Look, Enzo, I'm not

my ex-boyfriend had just cheated on me

us. Hell, it is messy no matter how you

Every love story is messy in its own way. Ours is no different. And besides, it's not

like the way that Mila was probing. Something tells me that she would have gotten it out of

told you that you don't need to worry about Mila. And besides, if you're

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