He was running a fever.
She went to find the doctor, who recommended starting with cool compresses to bring his temperature down physically.
Since it was the middle of the night, it wasn't practical to call Dante to find a male nurse.
Edmond was already awake and had overheard the doctor.
"It's fine..." he muttered. "I can just sleep it off."
She gave him a look, didn't say a word, and silently went to ask the nurses for some rubbing alcohol.
Because he had to lie on his stomach, she dabbed the alcohol-soaked gauze gently against his neck, then pulled his arms out to rub his palms and the crooks of his elbows.
He watched her.
In that moment, she looked so gentle and demure, her eyelashes casting soft shadows over her lowered eyes.
How long had it been... since he had seen her like this?
Ever since they reunited after the breakup, every encounter had been hostile and full of venom.
It was as if they were sworn enemies, unable to let a conversation end without trying to stab each other where it hurt most.
But in reality...
How many of those cruel words did he actually mean?
No matter how much he resented her, the sweet, happy moments of their relationship hadn't been fake.
Even if they had broken up, she was still the first woman he had truly loved.
He was a grown man; why was he being so petty and holding grudges against her?
She suddenly looked up.
Their eyes met.
He hastily averted his gaze.
She handed him the gauze. "I'll help you sit up, and you can wipe the rest yourself."
"Where?" he asked.
Her cheeks flushed a little. "The doctor just said it, didn't you hear him?"
"My head is pounding, I missed it."
"Just... your groin and areas like that..."
By the time she finished the sentence, even her earlobes were completely red.
"Do it yourself, I'm stepping out!"
Watching her flee the room, a faint smile tugged at his lips.


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