Emma woke up with a wave of nausea that hit her like a truck. Her stomach churned violently as she bolted upright in bed, hand flying to her mouth. Mark stirred beside her, still half-asleep, reaching out with that same gentle touch that used to make her feel safe. Now it just felt wrong.

“Baby? You okay?” he mumbled, rubbing her back.

“I’m fine,” she lied quickly, swallowing hard against the bile rising in her throat. “Just… ate something weird last night. I’ll be okay.”

She slipped out of bed before he could say more, rushing to the bathroom and locking the door. The moment she was alone, she leaned...