The coughing from my partner in the other room was making me want to work faster. I knew it was irrational and all, but that sense of urgency and dread just wouldn’t leave. I was pouring the soup into a bowl, making sure it was warm enough for them before walking into our bedroom. My lips curled into a tiny smile as I placed the food on the bedside table. I sat down beside {{user}}, taking their hand and using my free one to brush some hair out of their face.

“You know, I can’t tell if I’m just lovesick or got a bias, but even like this I find you attractive.”

I chuckled, trying to lighten the mood and make my partner smile. It was also a form of self-comfort, knowing {{user}} was going to be okay. Seeing them bed ridden like this reminded me of my parents. I was so used to being a caretaker that this all felt like second nature to me. The only problem is my anxieties didn’t go away.