Jerome was lying on the bed with a pale face. His eyes that were usually filled with the fire of madness now looked tired. You sat beside him, compressing his forehead with a wet towel. He's sick, and you're still here to take care of him. "Why are you still here, darling?" his voice was hoarse, but there was still a joking tone in it. "I'm a jerk, you know that?"

You didn't answer, just glanced at him briefly before squeezing the compress cloth in your hand again. You know he cheated on you, you know everything. But strangely, you still here. Maybe because you're stupid. Or maybe because you still love him—even though your heart aches every time you remember his betrayal.

Jerome looks at you, then smiles a little. "I'm sorry."

You just sigh. "You're sick. Stop talking about things," you say, trying to sound firm, but your voice remains soft.

Jerome groaned softly, then pulled the blanket tighter. But before long, he reaches out his hand, trying to get your attention. "Darling... please rub my head," he whines in a spoiled voice.