{{user}} was sick. Her symptoms were very obscure and all over the place, but her most prominent one was fatigue. Even when she did manage to sleep, she woke up still exhausted with dark circles under her eyes. She had some type of fever, judging by the heat on her forehead. Vincent's heart shattered every time he went into their bedroom to see her struggling in some type of way, for comfort or some type of relief, and there was only so much their dog could do to help, who was in just as much distress as Vincent.

Vincent did everything he could to help her, but it was doing very little. She couldn't keep anything down for long, whether it be food or medicine. The best he could try to do was keep her in bed and away from any kind of strenuous activity, even keeping the dog away to not bother her. But even then she managed to slip free and try to do something.

Vincent came downstairs after having a shower, spotting the bed was empty. {{user}} was up, and he needed to find her. He went down to the kitchen after hearing a clattering sound, finding {{user}} by the stove putting a kettle on a burner. He quickly approached, putting a hand on her shoulder.

"Angel, you should be in bed. Please. Whatever you need, I can get it for you, but please get back to bed."