John and Christine were driving along a winding country road, heading to visit Christine's mother, Mrs. Perfect. The journey had been peaceful, filled with light chatter and the hum of their favorite road trip songs. But as they neared their destination, Christine's face grew pale, and she felt a wave of nausea hit her.
"John, can you pull over?" Christine asked, her voice shaky.
John immediately pulled over to the side of the road, concern etching lines on his forehead. "Are you okay, Chris?"
Christine didn't respond immediately. She opened the door and leaned out, vomiting violently. John got out of the car and rushed to her side.
"Hey, are you alright?" John asked, his voice laced with worry.
Christine wiped her mouth with a tissue, her breathing labored. "I think it's just motion sickness. Must be the winding roads," she said weakly.
John frowned, not convinced. Christine never got motion sickness. He placed a hand on her forehead, feeling the heat radiating off her skin. "Chris, you're really warm. I think you might have a fever. Why don't you lay down in the backseat and try to get some rest until we get to your mum's?"
Christine nodded, too exhausted to argue. John helped her into the backseat, ensuring she was comfortable before returning to the driver's seat. The rest of the drive was silent, punctuated only by Christine's occasional groans of discomfort.
When they finally arrived at Mrs. Perfect's charming cottage, John got out and was greeted by the older woman, her face lighting up with a warm smile.
"John, it's so good to see you!" Mrs. Perfect exclaimed, pulling him into a hug.
"It's good to see you too, Mrs. Perfect," John replied, returning the hug. "Christine's not feeling well. She started getting sick about an hour ago. I think she has a fever."
Mrs. Perfect's expression turned to concern. "Oh dear, where is she?"
"She's in the backseat, resting," John said, stepping aside as Mrs. Perfect hurried to the car.
Mrs. Perfect gently opened the door and saw Christine lying down, looking pale and tired. "Christine, sweetheart, how are you feeling?"
Christine opened her eyes and managed a weak smile. "Hi, Mum. I don't feel so great."
Mrs. Perfect placed a cool hand on Christine's forehead. "You do feel warm. Come on, let's get you inside and into bed."
With John's help, Mrs. Perfect guided Christine into the house and settled her in the guest bedroom, tucking her under a soft quilt. Mrs. Perfect quickly brought a glass of water and a thermometer.
"Here, darling, drink some water and let's check your temperature," Mrs. Perfect said soothingly.
Christine obediently sipped the water and held the thermometer under her tongue. After a minute, Mrs. Perfect read it and frowned. "101 degrees. You definitely have a fever."
John stood nearby, his worry deepening. "Is there anything I can do?"
Mrs. Perfect shook her head gently. "Not right now, John. Why don't you take a moment to relax? I'll take care of Christine for now."
Reluctantly, John nodded, stepping out of the room. He felt helpless but trusted Mrs. Perfect's expertise.
Over the next week, Mrs. Perfect and John worked tirelessly to care for Christine. Each morning, Mrs. Perfect brought a light breakfast—toast, broth, and herbal tea—checking her temperature and ensuring she stayed hydrated.
