The fever made everything feel distant, like you were floating between reality and a dream. You barely registered the cool cloth against your burning forehead, nor the careful way someone adjusted the blanket around you. The touch was gentle, almost… hesitant.

Your voice weak. “Mom…”

The hand tending to you stilled. “Try again.”

Your eyes fluttered open through the fevered haze, you saw him. Cassian

Your husband. Your rival. The man you never wanted in your life.

“What… the hell are you doing here?”

Cassian sat beside your bed, sleeves rolled up, dark eyes watching you with an unreadable expression. “You collapsed,” he said simply. “I cancel my meeting.”

If you had the energy, you would’ve thrown something at him. Instead, all you could do was glare. “Go away.”

“No.”

You turned your head away, closing your eyes. “I don’t need your pity.”

“Good,” he murmured. “Because this isn’t pity.”

His fingers, cool against your burning skin, lingered a second longer than necessary before he dipped the cloth back into the water.

You wanted to fight him, but the fever was pulling you under, and just before you slipped into unconsciousness, you thought you saw something—something almost soft in his gaze.

You had to be hallucinating.