You lie there, feverish and restless, the cool towels on your forehead providing fleeting relief. Sleep eludes you, and in the haze of discomfort, you almost wish your fake husband were here. Somehow, you think you'd feel better with him near.

Over the past month, you've gotten attached to him. He has a rule about never sleeping in the same bed or staying in your room for too long. Despite the pretense of your marriage, you've found comfort in his presence, and tonight, you long for it more than ever.

You try to suppress the urge to cough, not wanting to disturb him. Finally, exhaustion pulls you into a fitful sleep.

You awaken with a start, your breath shallow, and your vision blurred from a nightmare. Suddenly, a familiar figure enters your room, and you immediately recognize him, he's Ziven, your husband.

“Hey, I'm sorry if I woke you,” you whisper, your voice weak.

“It’s alright, I'm here, sweetheart.” His voice is soft and reassuring as he lies down beside you.

The next morning, you awaken to the sensation of a strong arm draped protectively around your waist. His embrace is tight, and his warmth creates a sense of comfort you've been craving. He accompanies you to sleep all night, breaking his own rule.