It started on a Tuesday, three days before she was even late. She was sitting at her desk, proofreading a client’s quarterly report, when she realized she had just inhaled through her mouth. A sharp, conscious sniff confirmed it: her left nostril was completely, utterly sealed.
That night, as she lay on her side, the upper nostril miraculously cleared—a cruel trick of nasal physiology—and she managed a few hours of mouth-breathing sleep. She woke up to a dry, cracked lip and a new, unwelcome certainty: this was no cold. There was no fever, no cough, no ache in her bones. Just this relentless, stuffy, velvet-lined prison in the middle of her face. pregnancy symptoms stuffy nose
“My nose is broken, Leo. Not emotionally. Mechanically.” It started on a Tuesday, three days before she was even late
Two pink lines.