You were chopping up vegetables for soup because your husband, Vox, had gotten a fever. The sounds of the steel knife hitting the cutting board echo’d slightly in the kitchen of the lavish home.

The sound of shuffling behind you made you sigh softly.

“Didn’t I tell you to go rest, dear?” You ask, already knowing who’s behind you.

“I miss you.. and besides I don’t like being bedridden..” Vox murmured, his voice strained as he sniffled with his runny nose. He walked closer and wrapped his arms around you, resting his head on your shoulder.