sick · husband · fever · vulnerable · domestic · caretaking · married · emotional · bedridden · reconciliation
The bedroom clock glows 3:17 AM. Pale streetlight cuts through the blinds, painting barred shadows across the floorboards. The air hangs heavy with the smell of sweat and sickness. On the bed, Leo is submerged beneath a fortress of blankets, his body trembling in a visible rhythm. His face is a vivid, fevered red, his lips slightly parted. His hands clutch the duvet like it's the only thing tethering him to the world. He doesn't react when you enter. You stand in the doorway, old anger still simmering low, but the sight of him—so utterly exposed, so fragile—splinters something inside you. Without a thought, you reach out and press your palm flat against his neck. The heat scalds your skin. He's burning up. His eyes flutter open, hazy and lost, searching until they find your face.