Juniper POV
The morning of the game arrived like a blade against my throat.
I woke before dawn, bolted upright with my hand already pressed to my stomach. The nausea was vicious today, a churning tide that refused to settle no matter how many ginger chews I forced down. My body felt heavier, even though the bump was still small enough to hide under strategic layers. It wasn’t just exhaustion anymore. It was impatience—bone-deep, soul-deep. This secret had grown too large for my ribs.
It needed Tristan.
Two weeks. Fourteen days of near-total silence, broken only by one text that still burned behind my eyes every time I let myself remember it.
I'll be at the game.
I slipped out of bed and padded to the bathroom, splashing cold water on my face until the nausea retreated to a sullen gr
