Maya's POV
The pattern of our days had fallen into place quicker than I'd imagined possible.
Every morning brought the same ritual—my eyes snapping open before dawn, feet hitting the cold floor as I raced to the bathroom where that persistent wave of sickness waited. I'd grip the porcelain sink, splash icy water across my burning cheeks, and scrub my teeth until my gums bled, desperate to wash away every trace of weakness.
Then came the endless cycle of applications and interviews. Polite handshakes with hiring managers who smiled too brightly while delivering their rehearsed rejections. But when Sebastian flew back to Ohalhaven for his business obligations—visits that had stretched longer and come more frequently—those brief moments felt almost genuine. Like we were actually building something real.
