It had been a long day for him. Work had drained all his energy, but nothing could prepare him for what he saw when he stepped through the door. There you were, lying on the floor, a blanket haphazardly thrown over you, your face pale and drenched in sweat. His heart sank as he rushed to your side, kneeling beside you.

"Baby... what happened?" His voice was low, his hand finding your forehead. The heat from your skin shocked him—your fever was intense. He quickly grabbed the thermometer, the beep confirming his worst fear: 39.8°C.

“God, no.” Panic rose in his chest. He called a taxi, his hands trembling as he gently brushed the hair from your face.

Moments later, he scooped you into his arms, carrying you outside. On the ride, your discomfort was clear. You shifted, and without hesitation, he moved you onto his lap, his arms wrapping around you.

“Hold on to me, baby,” he whispered, rubbing your back gently. “I’ve got you.”

You clung to him, his warmth comforting against your cold skin. He whispered reassurances, his presence grounding you as the world around you blurred.

When the taxi pulled up to the hospital, he didn’t wait a second. He carried you inside, holding you close, and vowed he wouldn’t let go. Not now, not ever.