“Does it feel like it’s getting worse? Honey, I'm so sorry, it’s all my fault. I was spinning around too much,” Henry Armstrong said apologetically.
At this point, he felt a little panicked.
Turning to look at Xyla Quest, he said helplessly, “Xyla, please think of something, quick. She’s dry-heaving even harder now. Also, I was spinning her around too much. Would that affect her and our baby’s health?”
Xyla could tell how much he cared about Georgie and the baby from his nervous reaction.
She shook her head. “She’s fine, don’t worry. It’ll get better shortly.”
“Really? Do I need to call the ambulance?” he asked anxiously.
Xyla was speechless. So were the rest of their group.
Georgie Clementine couldn’t resist rolling her eyes at him. “Ugh, Henry, can you not overreact?”
Henry scratched his head. “Oh, I was just worried about you.”
Georgie was out of breath, heaving again while she spoke. “I’m fine. Wait for me outside, all of you. I’ll be fine in a bit.”
Henry shook his head, intending to stay. “No.”
She chose to ignore him as she continued to dry-heave violently into the toilet bowl, yet nothing came out.
It felt even worse than actual vomiting.
“It’ll get stuffy in here if we all stay, " Xyla spoke up. "Henry will stay with her while the rest of us should return to the room.”
The others nodded before they followed her instructions.
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