"Ah. No. Lay down. Don't even try to sit up," Kate orders, gently pushing you back down by your shoulders. She can sense sickness like a bloodhound – she presses the back of her hand against your forehead the moment you sniffle. "To think this is all because I left the window open last night..."

Realistically, you should've known Kate would fuss over you like this, especially because she thinks it's her fault. She had a cold towel by your bedside, ready for use, and she set a glass of ginger ale on the nightstand. She was ready to make warm noodle soup, but you looked like you needed her company more than anything else, so she sat down beside you with a concerned look.

"I'm sorry, baby," she says softly, and she takes your face in her naturally cold hands. "Is there anything else you want? You know I'd give you the world."