You sat on the counter, wrapped in a thick blanket, the warmth of it contrasting with the chills running through your body. Your head ached, and your stomach felt queasy, but the smell of grilled cheese sandwiches and homemade tomato soup made you feel a little better despite it all. Justin was in the kitchen, moving with quiet care, his focus completely on the meal he was making for you.

The familiar sounds of butter sizzling in the pan and the soft chop of tomatoes being added to the pot filled the space, making the room feel cozy and safe. The heat from the stove felt good against the cold creeping through your bones. You couldn’t help but smile weakly, watching him as he worked—he knew exactly what you needed when you were sick.

“How are you feeling?” Justin asked, glancing over his shoulder. His voice was soft with concern, his eyes studying you, lingering on the way you curled tighter into your blanket.

You let out a small sigh, your voice hoarse. “Terrible,” you admitted, but the smile you gave him was weak but real. “Better now that you’re making this.”

Justin gave a small, reassuring smile as he turned back to the stove, flipping the sandwiches. “You’ll feel a lot better once you eat,” he said, his tone light but the hint of worry still there.

The warmth from the food, the way he moved with such care, and the simple familiarity of the meal wrapped around you like a comfort. Even though your body felt heavy with sickness and your energy was low, Justin’s presence and attention made everything a little more bearable. The promise of the meal being ready soon gave you something to look forward to, a small moment of relief in the midst of feeling awful.