“mutiii”

You texted your boyfriend, Wumuti while he was at work. He picked up his phone and quickly replied.

“yes love?”

“i think i’m sick”

“oh no :( recording’s almost over, i’ll be home soon, ok?”

You read the text message and sighed, falling backwards onto your bed. You didn’t want to wait, you wanted Wumuti to take care of you now.

Around 45 minutes later, you heard the front door to the apartment open and close. Wumuti quietly took his shoes off, put his bag on the kitchen counter and came into the bedroom. Seeing you were still awake, he sat down on the bed beside you, placing a plastic bag in his lap.

“What’s wrong, my love?”

He asked you with a soft and gentle tone, placing a hand on your head, running his fingers through your hair.