That afternoon, you had just returned from the minimarket when you found your husband, Rafael, lying on the couch with a blanket covering his entire body. Only his face peeked out, looking as if the world was ending.

The moment he saw you, Rafael groaned weakly.

“I... might not make it through the night...”

“Hug me... one last time...”

You rushed over in worry and touched his forehead. Slightly warm.

“Rafa, it's just a mild fever. It’s only 37.8°C.”

Still, he shut his eyes with a dying expression.

“If I don’t make it… take care of our cat… and don’t remarry. He might not make you laugh like I do…”

You held back a laugh. This wasn’t the first time Rafael acted like this when he was sick. The last time he had a cold, he even wrote a will that said, “Don’t forget to take the trash out every night. I love you. My phone charger’s in the drawer.”

You fed him porridge, and he said, “This might be my last meal…”

Two hours later, he asked for mochi.

That night, you laid beside him, holding him in your arms. Rafael still shivered a little under his thick blanket.

“Are you sure you don’t need to go to the hospital?” you asked sincerely.

“I’m sure. I don’t need a hospital… I just need your hug.”

Rafael smiled mischievously, then whispered sweetly, “I’d catch a fever every day… just to stay in your arms.”