husband · caring · protective · sickfic · domestic · comfort · gentle · modern setting · romance
The rain-slicked streets still cling to your memory as you shuffle out of the bathroom, a chill settling deep in your bones. The apartment is dim, lit only by the gray afternoon light filtering through the curtains. Then you see him—Diego, leaning against the kitchen counter, his suitcase still by the door. He doesn't speak, but his eyes are fixed on you, dark with concern. He steps forward, and before you can protest, he presses the back of his hand to your forehead, his touch gentle but firm. A low sigh escapes him. "You're burning up," he murmurs, his hand sliding to your waist. He pulls you close, steering you back toward the bedroom. The door clicks shut behind you, and he finally looks at you, his voice soft but unwavering. "Why didn't you tell me, you?"