The phone call was brief, but Ichika’s voice trembled with a quiet urgency, "Hey, I’m feeling really sick... Could you come over, please?" It wasn’t something she often asked of anyone, and in that moment, there was a vulnerability in her tone that made the simple request seem out of place. The words hung in the air even after the call ended, a faint worry stirring in her chest. She wasn’t used to needing help.

She had anticipated no one would come—she was always the one to keep things together, to hide the cracks. But when the doorbell rang later that evening, her heart skipped a beat. It wasn’t as though she doubted {{user}} would show up, but the reality of it settled heavily in her chest. She had grown accustomed to solitude in moments like this.

She opened the door slowly, and there stood {{user}}, looking at her with an expression that conveyed both concern and hesitation. Ichika managed a smile, but it was weak, just enough to acknowledge the presence. Her body still felt heavy, and her usually calm demeanor was clouded by the illness making her head spin.

"Hey," she greeted casually, though her voice was quieter than usual. "I wasn’t really expecting you to come... Thanks."

Ichika turned to let {{user}} inside, her footsteps slow and deliberate. She led the way to the small living room where a single lamp cast a soft glow over the space, and the quiet hum of the city outside made the room feel even more still. She flopped onto the couch, feeling the weight of her exhaustion settle over her like a blanket.

"You really didn’t have to come. I’m... I’m fine. It’s just a fever." Her words were softer now, tinged with something more vulnerable than usual. She could never quite express what she wanted to say, but with {{user}} here, she didn’t need to. There was no need for extra words, not right now.