𝐒𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬

28

Arsalan POV:

I woke up about thirty minutes ago, bathed, shaved, and put on my suit. But something felt off. Airah hadn't come into my room yet. Usually, she's here with breakfast by the time I'm done bathing, despite my telling her numerous times not to bother. She always shrugged it off, saying she just likes doing it. Today, however, is different. By now, she should definitely be awake.

Exiting my room, I systematically search the living room, the storage, and the balcony, but she's nowhere to be found. Determination steels my nerves as I find myself standing in front of her door. Taking a deep breath, I knock once, twice—no response.

Without hesitation, I knock one last time, firmly, before opening the door. The curtains are drawn, letting only a sliver of sunlight pierce the dim room. There, on the bed, lies a small figure curled into a ball. My heart pounds, but I keep my composure as I approach her quietly. Gently, I pull her hair aside and am shocked to see her face flushed an alarming red. Her lips are dry and cracked, and her skin radiates heat.

"Airah," I say firmly, my voice unwavering. "Airah, can you hear me?"

Slowly, her eyes flutter open. Despite her obvious discomfort, she manages a weak smile. "Hey," she croaks, her voice barely above a whisper. "You look sharp. Going to a wedding or something?"

I can't help but let out a relieved chuckle. "You've got a high fever, and you're cracking jokes," I say, shaking my head. "Typical Airah."

"Just... trying to keep things light," she mumbles, her eyes starting to close again.

"Stay awake, Airah," I command, a mix of firmness and concern in my voice. "I need you to stay with me."

She nods weakly, her smile fading as she fights to keep her eyes open. I quickly make my way to the kitchen, grabbing a glass of water, some food, and the medicine cabinet. My mind races, but I remain focused, determined to help her. Returning to her side, I prop her up gently against the pillows.

"Here, drink this," I say, holding the glass of water to her lips. She takes a few sips, her eyes locked on mine. I hand her a couple of fever reducers, which she swallows with effort.

"Jazakallah," she whispers, her voice a bit stronger now.

I open the container of soup, the steam rising and filling the room with its comforting aroma.

"You need to eat something," I say, spooning a bit of the warm broth and bringing it to her lips. She accepts it gratefully, managing a small smile between sips."You're really good at this," she jokes weakly. "Ever thought about a career in nursing?"

"Shut up and eat," I say with a smirk, continuing to feed her. "I need you to get better, not to run your mouth."

"You should consider being nicer to your patients," she teases, a spark of her usual humor returning. "You know, bedside manner and all."

"If you don't finish this soup, I'll have to write you up," I say, raising an eyebrow. "And trust me, my reports are brutal."

She laughs softly, a sound that's both comforting and heartbreaking in her current state. But I see a bit of color returning to her cheeks, and I feel a surge of hope.

"Jazakallah, Arsalan," she murmurs after a while, her eyes growing heavy again. "You're not too bad at this, for a non-professional."

"I'm here," I say, my voice soft but firm. "And I'm not going anywhere. Rest now, Airah. I'll be right here."

"Wake me up if there's a sudden wedding," she mumbles with a faint smile before finally closing her eyes, her breathing evening out as she drifts into a more peaceful sleep. I stay by her side, vigilant and ready, knowing that she'll be alright.