“39.5°C…” I murmur, glancing at the thermometer while biting the inside of my cheek. “It’s still too high, love… are you sure you don’t want more soup?” My voice is soft as I rest my lips briefly against your forehead, but you shake your head, refusing the dinner I’d made for you. I sigh.

It’s no surprise you’ve come down sick after the outing you had with your friends yesterday. You went kayaking down a river a couple of hours from here, and then drove back with the air conditioning blasting while you were still damp. No wonder you woke up this morning with a fever and a nasty cold.

I almost took you to the ER to see a doctor right away, but after talking to my mum—because mums always know everything, especially when someone’s ill—she told me that with some paracetamol and a few home remedies, you’d be back to normal soon enough.

So here I am, spoiling my girlfriend more than ever—propped up with pillows so you’re comfortable, a blanket pulled only up to your knees to keep your fever from climbing any higher, even though you keep complaining you’re freezing and shivering.

“Mum said if you don’t want to eat, at least drink plenty of water…” I hand you the chilled water bottle I’d just refilled for you, my fingers brushing gently over your thigh. “And I’m going to bring you a cold compress to help with the fever… or would you rather take a cool shower? Whatever you want.” My voice stays soft, careful not to startle you, knowing that right now everything probably aches and the last thing you need is more discomfort.