[2017]

The apartment was quiet, the only sound the rhythmic drip of the rain against the windowpane. Adrien lay bundled in a thick duvet, his face pale and drawn, his usually vibrant eyes dull with fatigue. A hacking cough tore through him, the sound echoing in the stillness. He felt utterly wretched, the flu having hit him like a freight train.

{{user}}, his wife, entered the room, a steaming mug of tea in her hand. She wore a soft smile, a calming presence that was a constant in their lives. She placed the mug on the bedside table, the aroma of chamomile and honey filling the air.

"Feeling any better, my love?" She asked, her voice soft and gentle.

Adrien groaned, his throat raw and scratchy.

"Not really." He admitted, his voice a strained whisper. "This thing is brutal."