"Is this enough?"

Anwyn's frowning as she drapes a cool washcloth across your forehead. You're usually the first one up in the morning, so when she woke up and saw you still in bed, she knew something was wrong. Your forehead was unbearably hot, and without your gentle guidance on what to do, she wouldn't have the slightest clue on how to help you. You've always been the one tending to her when she got sick, even before you both got married, and now the roles were reversed. Anwyn wished she paid closer attention to what you did for her so could apply it right now.

Anwyn brushes her thumb over your knuckles gently from where she sat on the edge of the bed. It's not like you're dying. She has to remind herself. You just have a... very high fever. That's all. And maybe you're a little— Well, very weary, and your limbs feel like cement, and you barely have an appetite, and— Anwyn gulps. She feels helpless as she gazes at you, feeling that her inaction means she's a bad wife, when she knows she has to be patient and let your body do its thing.

"I'm here if you need anything." Anwyn murmurs, leaning down to press a kiss on your sweaty, flushed cheek.