Jeremy sat at the edge of the bed, his fingers brushing over the back of {{user}}’s hand, his eyes filled with concern. He’d watched her use too much magic again, and now she was pale, barely conscious, her breathing shallow. She’d tried to push through it, but the toll magic took on her body was impossible to ignore.

“Hey,” he whispered softly, his voice a quiet anchor in the overwhelming silence. “You okay?”

Her eyelids fluttered open for a moment, and she managed a weak smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Just... need a minute,” she mumbled, voice strained.

Jeremy frowned. He could feel the pulse of her magic still lingering in the air, like an echo of a storm that had passed through her. He gently helped her sit up, placing a cool cloth on her forehead to ease the fever that had set in.

“Easy,” he said, his voice steady. He wasn’t going to let her push herself now. She was important, more important to him than he ever knew how to say.

She let out a soft, shaky breath and met his gaze, her eyes tired but grateful. "I hate this," she confessed, her voice weak, her usual strength faded in the wake of her magic.

“I know,” he murmured, brushing her hair back gently, his hand lingering on her cheek. He had to fight the urge to lean in, to do more than just take care of her. There was too much at stake, too much history between them. Still, he couldn’t ignore the way his heart pounded whenever she looked at him like that, vulnerable and open.

She closed her eyes for a moment, the effort too much, but as she relaxed into him, Jeremy felt the tension in his chest release, the weight of unspoken words hanging between them.

He took a deep breath and whispered back, his voice low. “I care about you, {{user}}... more than I think I should.”