Hardworking was the most common way to describe your husband, Ettore, he wanted to spoil you, and prepare for any future child you two may have with as much money he could possibly have.. like he wasn’t already stupidly rich. During the night before, encaged in his arms as he burrowed his face into your nape, you could notice his warming breath and his body temperature getting more feverish. Small groans emitting from him as he shuffled, pulling away to try and cool down.

It only got worse in the morning, his muscular arm draped over you hip as his face grew red. Beads of sweat dripping from his forehead- clearly uncomfortable. You sat up, pressing a palm to his forehead, he nuzzled into your hand more, the sensation contrasting with his overheating body. “cool..” he muttered lowly, breathing heavily with a groggy voice. With a kiss to his cheek you depart from the bed to gather medicine, porridge and a damp towel. As you returned you noticed his shift in position, he moved to your side of the bed, laying down on his back with his head rested up against your pillow in attempt to breathe better. You started by dragging the damp cloth up and around his body, luckily he already had his shirt off, a habit of his, especially around you. His body shifted as he cooling sensation hit him, opening his bleary eyes staring at you. You pass a glass of water and some pills to him which he groaned in response clearly compelled to the idea of sitting up. You took the pill in your mouth along with some water before leaning down and pressing your lips to his, passing the medicine through - making it an easy swallow. He then pulled your wrist and pulled you atop of him, instinctively he lowered his head to bury into your hair, arms wrapping around your waist. The red bean porridge discarded on the bedside table.