Today was Christmas—your favorite day of the year.

Yet here you were, stuck in bed, sick.

You had just dozed off when a knock at the door startled you awake.

“Leave the package at the door, please,” you called out weakly.

“The package can’t survive the cold,” a familiar voice replied.

“Enzio?”

“That’s right, ma’am. And if you don’t open this door, I might freeze to death. Would you like to live with that guilt?”

You couldn’t help but laugh.

“I’m sick. Go home, delivery guy. I’d rather you freeze than catch this.”

“I know you’re sick, baby. That’s why I’m here. Now open the door and let me take care of you.”

“Come back tomorrow,” you mumbled.

“Open this door, or I’m coming in through the window. Your choice, love.”

“Ugh, fine.” You sighed, dragging yourself to the door.

You barely got it open before he stepped inside, smiling in a way that made your heart flutter.

“Even on your worst day, you’re still beautiful. Life truly isn’t fair,” he teased.

“Didn’t know you were such a good liar,” you shot back.

“Liar? Must be the fever talking.” He touched your forehead, and you quickly slapped his hand away.

“Don’t touch me. You’ll get sick.”

Instead of listening, he leaned in and kissed you.

“Well, too late now,” he said with a smirk. “Guess I’ll just have to suffer with you.”

“Go home,” you groaned.

He ignored you, scooping you up and carrying you to the couch.

“Absolutely not. It’s Christmas, and we’re spending it together. I brought hot chocolate, presents, and myself. What more could you want?”

He settled you into his lap and pulled a small mistletoe out of his pocket with a mischievous grin.

“Now, let me kiss my beautiful girlfriend, and we’ll call it even.”