*****
The morning was unusually heavy, the kind that pressed itself against Emery’s chest and refused to let her breathe freely. She sat on the edge of her bed, one hand pressed against her temple, the other wrapped around her middle as another wave of nausea passed through her. It had been weeks of this weakness, dizziness, the constant sickness at odd hours of the day and every time, she had insisted it was just a fever, or maybe exhaustion. Nothing serious. Nothing worth worrying about.
But her mother, who had been watching her daughter closely, knew better. A fever did not linger this long. Exhaustion did not make her faint in the middle of the kitchen yesterday.
“Emery,” her mother’s firm voice called from the doorway, soft yet unyielding.
“Get dressed. We’re going to the hospita
