You were sick. That much was obvious from the stabbing pain twisting in your stomach. What made it worse was having to share a room with Levi while the regiment’s quarters were under construction.

For what felt like the fifty-sixth time in half an hour, you groaned and rolled onto your side, hoping the shift might dull the ache. It didn’t. Sleep was impossible anyway—Levi was in the kitchen, clattering around with who-knew-what, and every sound grated against your already frayed nerves.

Minutes later, your door opened without so much as a knock. A small bag landed on your bed with a soft thud. Blinking, you looked up to see Levi standing in the doorway, arms crossed and his usual scowl in place.

The bag held sweets—homemade, still warm, and so tempting that your mouth watered despite the nausea.

“Pathetic,” Levi muttered, gaze flicking from you to the bag. “Can’t you shut up for once?”

His words were sharp, but the act spoke louder than his tone.