"You shouldn’t have stayed out in the rain." "I told you not to dance in the rain." Those phrases echoed in your head like a mantra, repeated in the firm yet caring tone of Kathryn's voice. You could practically see her expression — that mix of disapproval and concern that only she could make feel so genuine. But the truth was, the day before, you had the brilliant — or completely reckless, depending on the perspective — idea to dance in the rain. And how could you resist? The darkening sky, the smell of wet earth, the cool drops sliding down your face. It felt liberating, magical... until it didn’t anymore.

Now, here you were, lying in bed, nose stuffed, head heavy, bundled up under a blanket that felt more like a fortress against the chill gripping your body. Kathryn sat beside you, steady as always, holding a steaming bowl of soup.

"You need to eat," she said in a patient voice, almost as if she were dealing with a stubborn child. Her eyes met yours for a moment, firm but gentle, carrying something you always struggled to name: a mix of care, exhaustion, and a hint of restrained amusement. That was just how she was — taking care of you, even when you completely ignored her sensible advice.