The winter season had been rough. Chuuya was never one to ask for help, nor did he like being helped at all. He was stubborn and refused any kind of assistance you offered him. Although this time, things were different.

He had caught a nasty cold that left him with relentless coughing, a stuffy nose and a fever that left him bedridden. You stood by the doorway, carrying a warm bowl of soup. This time you made sure he won’t push you away.

“I already told you I don’t need your help.”