Page 48 of Vega

I cried because I was twenty-three years old, and I might die before anyone ever truly loved me enough.

10

NOVELLA “NOVI” HART

“Idon’t think nerves and grief are the reason you keep throwing up.” Nia’s voice reached me from somewhere behind my back while I remained on my knees in front of the toilet.

I groaned and rested my forehead against my arm. For days, I had been literally sick with grief. I couldn’t eat without feeling nauseous. I couldn’t sleep without waking up drenched in sweat. My head hurt constantly, and every part of my body felt drained.

My mind still rejected the fact that he was gone, even though I had seen his body, touched his cold hand, picked out the suit he would be buried in and sat across from a funeral director discussing flowers, music, and how many chairs we might need.

None of that felt real. It felt like a nightmare I had somehow remained trapped inside after waking up.

My stomach turned again.

I leaned over the toilet, but nothing came up this time.

“You’ve barely eaten,” Nia told me as if I didn’t know. “There shouldn’t even be anything left in you.”

“Thank you for that medical analysis,” I weakly quipped.

“I’m serious, Novi.”

“So am I. I’m stressed. My body is reacting to stress.”

She leaned against the doorframe. “When was your last period?”

I lifted my head, groaning. “I don’t know.”

I closed my eyes and tried to think. Before Kash died, my period had already been due. I counted backward in my head, then stopped when the number made me uneasy.

“It’s late,” I admitted.

“How late?”

“A little.”

“How little?”

“I don’t know. Maybe a week.”

Nia folded her arms. “Novi.”

“It’s probably late because I’m stressed. Stress affects your cycle.”

“Pregnancy can too.”

I grabbed the edge of the sink and pushed myself to my feet. “I’m not pregnant.”

I turned on the faucet and rinsed my mouth, then poured mouthwash into the cap. The sharp mint burned against my tongue.

Nia continued watching me. “You need to take a test.”

I spit into the sink and stared at my reflection. I smoothed the black dress over my hips, then fixed the front of my blonde curls with unsteady fingers.

I was about to leave our home, sit in the front row of a church, and watch people speak about the man I loved in past tense.

He was.