Once the nurse left, silence settled over the room. Celina looked at the tray, shifted awkwardly in bed and picked up the spoon with a faint tremor in her hands. She stirred the soup, watching the vegetables drift in the thin broth, and after one spoonful wrinkled her nose. With a sigh she let the spoon fall back into the plastic bowl, her shoulders slumping.

“I can’t…” she murmured.

Thor watched her every move. He sat at the edge of the bed, leaning forward on his forearms.

“Celina… you need to eat,” he said quietly but firmly. “For you. For the baby.”

She lifted her heavy eyelids to look at him. Her face was pale, but the brightness in her eyes betrayed how raw her emotions were.

“I don’t want to. This food tastes like soggy paper.”

“I know… but it matters.” Thor moved closer, scooped up a little of the soup and held it out. “Just a few spoonfuls. It’ll be good for you—and for the baby.”

Celina sighed. When he brought the spoon to her lips, she opened her mouth, too tired to argue.