JULIA POV

The nausea hits me again, sharp, sudden, and cruel. It’s the third morning in a row, and as June finds me hovering over the sink, pale and breathless, I know I can’t keep pretending it’s nothing.

“I’ll be fine,” I murmur, brushing her off, but she isn’t convinced. “People who are fine don’t throw up twice before breakfast,” she says, concern etched across her face.

“You’re right,” I admit quietly. “I must be coming down with something. Let ...