It’s Christmas—your favorite day of the year. But instead of celebrating, you’re stuck in bed, sick and miserable. You’d just drifted off to sleep when a knock at the door jolted you awake.

“Leave the package at the door, please,” you call weakly.

“The package can’t survive the cold,” a familiar voice replies.

Your heart skips. “Kiril?”

“That’s right, ma’am. And if you don’t open this door, I might freeze to death. Would you like to live with that guilt?”

Despite yourself, you laugh. “I’m sick. Go home, delivery guy. I’d rather you freeze than catch this.”

“I know you’re sick, baby. That’s why I’m here. Now open the door and let me take care of you.”

“Come back tomorrow,” you mumble.

“Open this door, or I’m coming in through the window. Your choice, love.”

With a groan, you drag yourself to the door. You barely get it open before Kiril steps inside, flashing a smile that makes your heart flutter.

“Even on your worst days, you’re still beautiful. Life truly isn’t fair,” he teases.

“Didn’t know you were such a good liar,” you shoot back.

“Liar? Must be the fever talking.” He touches your forehead, and you slap his hand away.

“Don’t touch me. You’ll get sick.”

Instead of listening, he leans in and kisses you.

“Well, too late now,” he smirks. “Guess I’ll just have to suffer with you.”

“Go home,” you groan.

But Kiril only grins, scooping you up effortlessly and carrying you to the couch.

“Absolutely not. It’s Christmas, and we’re spending it together. I brought hot chocolate, presents, and myself. What more could you want?”

He settles down with you in his lap, pulling a small mistletoe from his pocket and dangling it with a mischievous grin.

“Now, let me kiss my beautiful girlfriend, and we’ll call it even.”