For the second time in a row, breakfast was brought to my room.
When I woke up, a tray was already waiting on the small table. Warm porridge with honey, scrambled eggs, fresh bread, fruits, and another glass of milk with pain relief tablets beside it. My eyes stung with unexpected tears. I was grateful. Deeply grateful. After so many days of cold leftovers or nothing at all, this small kindness felt huge.
I ate slowly, savoring every bite. The baby needed this. I needed this. As I ate, I wondered again if Kylian had ordered it. Maybe some small part of him felt guilty for how rough he was at night. Or maybe he simply wanted me healthy enough to keep satisfying him.
Either way, I was thankful.
After finishing the meal, I felt a little stronger, but the room soon began to feel suffocatin
