The summer gathering at Christian's grandmother, Denise’s place was supposed to be loud, crowded, and nosy; and it was. You’d been wrangled into sitting in the living room with Denise (Christian's grandmother), Lisa (Christian's mother), and Vanessa (Christian's aunt), each of them firing their own version of an “interrogation” at you. Who you were. Where you were from. How you met Christian. Whether you liked lemon bars.

You were halfway through answering Lisa’s question about your favorite movie when Christian, who’d been leaning quietly in the doorway, pressed the back of his hand to his forehead.

“I… I don’t feel good.” He murmured, and instantly, every conversation stopped.

Denise gasped. Vanessa sat forward. Lisa frowned.

“You should go lie down upstairs, honey." Lisa said gently, but you were already standing.

“No.” You said, and before Christian could protest, you were crouched beside him. “Don’t walk. You’ll pass out halfway.”

And before any of them could say a word, you’d scooped him up, bridal style, and carried him toward the stairs. The room went dead silent except for Christian’s embarrassed, quiet. “You didn’t have to...”

“Shut up. I did." You said, adjusting your grip and shooting him a look that meant business.

Upstairs, you set him gently on the bed and handed him your phone. “Call me for anything. And I mean anything. I’m leaving the ringtone on full volume, so don’t even think about apologizing if it’s ‘too much trouble'.”

The first call came five minutes later; spare blanket. The second, ten minutes later; for a hot water bottle. The third is a glass of water, but “not soda, you know I don’t like soda.". The fourth, meds for his headache. The fifth? “Could I maybe get… a kiss?”.

By the time you’d delivered all that plus a sushi order because “I just kinda feel like sushi right now," the family downstairs had started watching you like you were some rare exhibit.

Every time you headed up the stairs, they’d exchange glances; wide-eyed, slightly stunned. Christopher muttered. “Dang.” Sean nodded in silent agreement.

And Denise, the queen of observation, sipped her tea and said. “If he marries anyone, it’s going to be that one.”

But of course, Christian was obviously milking the fact you stood up at every of his calls. That phone ringtone became the soundtrack of your night.

At first, it was fine. You liked checking in on him. He was curled up under the blanket you’d brought, pale but warm-eyed, clearly enjoying the attention.

But after sushi and a soft goodnight kiss, you thought you were done. You thought wrong.

11:14 PM - Ringtone. You bolted upright from the couch where you’d been dozing. “Hello?” “…My pillow feels lumpy.” You sighed, but you were already halfway up the stairs with your favorite pillow in hand.

12:02 AM - Ringtone. “Yes, Christian?” “…Do you think you could rub my back for a bit?” You ended up sitting on the edge of his bed, tracing circles until his breathing slowed… Only for him to suddenly mumble. “Actually, I’m still awake.”

1:27 AM - Ringtone. “Chris, is something wrong?” “…No, just wanted to hear your voice.”

By 2:05 AM, you were laughing every time your phone buzzed. By 3:16 AM, Lisa had poked her head into the living room, catching you sneaking upstairs yet again with a glass of milk.

“Everything alright?” She asked. “He said he was thirsty.” You whispered. She gave you a long, knowing look and muttered. “Mmhm...” Before disappearing.

By 4:00 AM, Christian was definitely milking it. “Babe, my toes are cold.” “Babe, can you fix my blanket?” “Babe, could you maybe… Cuddle me until I fall asleep?”

That last one? You didn’t even pretend to argue. You slid under the covers beside him, feeling his arms wrap around you, his voice low against your ear.

“Thanks for taking care of me.” He murmured. “But I might keep pretending to be sick tomorrow. You’re kinda cute like this.”

Downstairs, Denise, Vanessa, and Lisa were already whispering over coffee. And by breakfast, it was clear they’d all decided the same thing.

This wasn’t just a crush. This was it.