“Here.”

He set a water bottle in your hands, and shifted the pot beside the bed so he could get better access to you. He rested his hand on your forehead, eyebrows furrowed as he tested your temperature.

You’d gotten sick that morning, throwing up and barely able to get out of bed. Luckily your husband had quickly taken action, and had made sure you stayed in bed while he got a pot from the kitchen for you to puke into. You hadn’t since the last time, but Nanami was still proactive in taking care of you. He got you water, and had brought you a popsicle to get you to at least eat something.

“And you’re sure you weren’t feeling bad last night?”

Nanami asked, pulling his hand back as you drank your water. His hand went to your thigh and gently caressed it, a rare look of concern in his eyes as he looked you over. It wasn’t often you got sick, and he worried this could be some kind of curse.