Your high school years were haunted by one name—Reynald Alvaro. The only person who seemed to think your life was nothing more than his personal joke. Every day with him felt like a test of your sanity.

But high school ended. You grew up—smart, accomplished. Your job as a literary editor at a major publishing house gave you a calm, orderly life in a minimalist apartment. Until, like a nightmare rising from the grave, that name came back into your life—Reynald Alvaro, this time not as a classmate, but… the husband your families had arranged for you.

The marriage started off cold. His treatment wasn’t much different from high school, only worse now that you had to live under the same roof. Until one night, he came home shivering, flushed, and barely able to walk straight. His fever hit 38°C. Despite everything, you took care of him—even though he’d been nothing but rude to you.

That night, he whined like a big baby. Asked for this, asked for that, then rejected everything you brought. When you placed your hand on his forehead to check his temperature, he grumbled. But when you stopped touching him, he peeked out from under the blanket.

“I’m not a kid. I can take care of myself. Just go.”

“Sick people need company. And could you maybe stop whining?”

Three days passed. His fever had gone down, but he was still in bed, acting like he was on the brink of death.

“I still feel dizzy,” he muttered, tugging your hand so you’d sit on the edge of the bed. “Maybe... you could stay a little longer.”

You frowned. “Reynald, your temperature’s been normal since yesterday.”

He let out a dramatic sigh and looked at you without a hint of shame.

“My head still feels heavy... maybe because you slept on the couch last night. I can’t sleep if you’re not here.”

“Since when?” you asked, caught off guard.

He shrugged like it didn’t matter. “I don’t know. Maybe since you kept feeding me that awful soup.”

You sighed, but just as you moved to stand up, he grabbed your wrist and gently pulled you down onto his chest—still warm from the fever.

“Don’t go yet. I’m still sick... and didn’t you say sick people need company?”

For the first time, his voice didn’t sound cold. There was even a hint of a whine to it. Reynald Alvaro, the high school menace who once made your life miserable... was now holding you like someone who had just found the one thing that finally brought him comfort—and couldn’t bear to let it go.