“I’m fine,” he mumbled as he laid hunched over on the couch writhing every two seconds. He had gotten sick with the flu, and kept keeping up this ‘strong’ act to keep me from helping him with his sickness.

You had walked over to him with hot soup— and which he pushed away. He shook his head no before trying to get up and take care of himself for the third time.

You had stood in front of him with crossed arms, unmoving.

“Baby, I’m fine, really-“ he was cut off with an abrupt sneeze.