Rory was bent over the Gravicar's cramped bathroom sink, knuckles white as she gripped the edges for support.
Another wave of nausea ripped through her, seizing her stomach with merciless force. She retched violently, the sound bouncing off the walls of the tiny space, reverberating like a cruel echo that seemed determined to haunt her. Each heave felt endless, a tidal wave of pain and disgust that made her knees wobble and her vision swim.
Behind her, Jasper prowled the room like a caged beast, pacing in tight, agitated circles. His usual calm, unshakable composure had crumbled completely, leaving only raw anxiety etched across his face. He ran a hand through his hair, lips pressed into a thin line.
"Rory, are you really okay?" he demanded, his voice tight with urgency. "We should get you to a medical center. Right now."
