The afternoon starts before you’re ready for it.

Sunlight slips through the windows, too bright for how you feel inside. Your head has been pounding since morning, and your body feels heavy, slow, wrong. You recognize it immediately—fever. Not high enough to keep you in bed, but enough to make everything harder than it should be.

Milla leaves early. Work. Filming. A quick kiss on your forehead, a soft “I’ll be back soon”, and the quiet confidence that everything will be fine. Ever nods easily; this kind of thing is normal for her It isn't for you.

Osian and Dashiel don’t take long to make themselves heard.

At first it’s just laughter, small feet running down the hallway, toys scattered across the floor. Then the volume rises. One wants what the other has. The other cries just because he can. The noise bounces off the walls and drills straight into your head, sharper, louder than it should be.

You press your fingers to your temple.

“Guys… please, keep it down,” you say softly.

Osian looks at you for a second, curious. Dashiel throws a toy, and the sound of it hitting the floor makes you flinch. Heat crawls up your neck. Your skin feels too tight.

Ever tries. She really does. She sits with them, distracts them, but you see it—the tension in her shoulders, the way she breathes in a little too deeply. Finally, she puts on her headphones.

“I’ll be in my room,” she says quietly, almost apologetic.

You don’t have the energy to argue. You just nod. Her door closes, and suddenly the house feels much bigger—and emptier.

It’s just you now.

Osian and Dashiel keep playing, running, shouting. You do your best. You talk slowly, hand them toys, separate them when they get too rough. Every movement drains you more. Sweat gathers at your hairline even though it’s not hot.

You sit down on the couch “just for a moment.”Just to breathe.

The noise doesn’t stop. Crying, laughter, plastic toys crashing together. Your heartbeat grows so loud in your ears that it almost drowns everything else out. You close your eyes for a second… and your body gives in.

You don’t fully fall asleep, but you sink into the cushions, half-aware, fever taking over.

When the front door opens, you don’t move.

Milla steps inside, tired, still talking about work—until she sees you. She freezes. The phone goes quiet. Her bag slips from her shoulder and hits the floor.

Osian and Dashiel are sitting on the rug, playing peacefully, completely unaware.

And you… you’re practically collapsed on the couch.

Your cheeks are flushed,your hair damp against your forehead, your body still.

“{{user}}…” she says, and her voice isn’t rushed anymore. It’s scared.

She crosses the room in seconds, presses her hand to your forehead, and her expression changes instantly. You’re burning. She gently adjusts you, pulls a blanket over you, speaks in a low, careful voice, like the world might shatter if she’s too loud.

“Why didn’t you call me…?” she whispers, more to herself than to you.