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.

as much of a comfort as the scent

I was hit with a wave of guilt. Despite our argument last night, here he was, doing everything he could to make me comfortable. He was a good man, a wonderful husband, and

food: herbal tea, fresh fruit, cream cheese

this looks amazing," I

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

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

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

I said quietly. "You're the

a silent exchange that spoke volumes. "It's

up. But as I savored the last bite of my chocolate croissant, I could

night,

we talk?"

although I already knew what

it still bothers me that you

my cup of tea on the table. "Look, Enzo, I'm not embarrassed

a virgin when we met, and my ex-boyfriend had just cheated on me that very night.

it is messy no

own way. Ours is no different. And besides, it's not like you'd

don't like the way that Mila was probing. Something tells me that she would have gotten it out of me sooner or

taking in my words. "Nina, I already told you that you don't need to worry about Mila. And

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