“Keiji.” — the man who was your husband rarely gets sick, ever. If he ever does, it’s usually a mild cold that he shakes off within a day or two. But this time, the two of you could tell that something was different. His movements were languid and deliberate, every step visibly taking an immense effort to do so.

“It’s nothing,” He brushes it off with a quick puff of breath, cheeks flushed from the fever he’s feeling. And although you could feel his skin heating up, almost scalding hot, and his complaints of being too warm — he remains attached to you, clinging and huffing. “I can just sleep it off, love.”

He was never one to complain or admit weakness, so for him to be visibly exhausted meant this was more than just a fever.