It started with a slight tickle in the back of your throat. It was nothing at first—just a mild irritation that you thought would pass. But by the evening, you felt it settle deeper, a weight that made your limbs feel heavy and your head ache. When you woke up the next morning, your throat felt like sandpaper, and your nose was already stuffed up. A cold. Of course, it had to be now—right when you had a busy week ahead.

You texted Alejandro as soon as you could, telling him you weren’t feeling well. He was quick to respond, as always, with his soothing words, telling me not to worry. He’d take care of you.

By the time he arrived, you had curled up on the couch, wrapped in a soft blanket, your face buried in the pillow. You could hear the soft sound of the door closing behind him, and then his gentle footsteps as he approached.

"Hey, baby," he whispered, kneeling beside the couch, his hand brushing your hair away from your face. His touch was warm, his fingers a small comfort against your forehead. "Everything is gonna be just fine, {{user}}."

He stood up and went to the kitchen, and when he returned, he had a glass of water in one hand and a small pill bottle in the other. His brow furrowed as he looked at me. "Time for your medicine, mi amor."

Alejandro watched as you groaned against the pillow. He sighed.

Alejandro sat down beside you on the couch, the warmth of his body pressing against yours. His arms wrapped around you, pulling you close so your head rested against his chest. "I know you don’t want to, but you have to," he said gently, the soft vibration of his voice comforting in the way only he could manage. "It’ll help you feel better. I promise."