John and Christine were backstage, preparing for another gig in their tour. The atmosphere buzzed with excitement and anticipation, but John couldn't shake the feeling that something was off with Christine. She looked paler than usual, and when he approached her, he couldn't resist mentioning it.
"Hey, Chris, you alright? You look a bit pale," John said softly, concern etched on his face.
Christine flashed him a reassuring smile. "I'm fine, John. Just nerves, you know how it is before a big show."
John wasn't convinced. He placed a discreet hand on her forehead. "You feel a bit warm, are you sure you're okay?"
Christine sighed. "With the exception of the stomach ache I had this afternoon, never better."
As they were about to go onstage, John kept a watchful eye on Christine. Midway through their set, he noticed her rushing offstage. Concerned, he followed her and found her leaning over a trash bin, throwing up.
"Chris, maybe you should sit this one out," John suggested gently, rubbing her back.
Christine straightened up, wiping her mouth. "No way, John. The show must go on."
Reluctantly, John nodded, helping her back onstage where they finished the set. After the gig, John found Christine in her dressing room, still looking unwell and throwing up once more.
"I'll take you back to the hotel. I can order you some soup from room service and take care of you," John offered, worriedly.
Just then, Mick, their bandmate, interrupted. "Hey, you two! Dinner's on me tonight. Let's celebrate the great show!"
John hesitated, wanting to decline, but knowing it would raise suspicion if he did. Christine, however, spoke up weakly, "I'm too exhausted, Mick. Maybe next time."
As Mick walked away, John leaned closer to Christine. "I had to agree to dinner, or it would've looked suspicious. I'll find someone to stay with you tonight, okay?"
Christine nodded weakly, knowing John was right. John quickly sought out Christine's assistant, Jenn, and filled her in on the situation.
"Hey, Jenn. Christine's not feeling well. Can you stay with her tonight while I'm at dinner with the band?" John asked earnestly.
Jenn nodded sympathetically. "Of course, John. I'll take care of her. You have a good time."
At the hotel, Jenn made sure Christine was comfortable. She ordered soup for her dinner and gently rubbed her back as Christine threw up again.
Throughout the evening, Jenn remained at Christine's side like a guardian angel, her concern deepening with every bout of nausea Christine endured. Each time Christine grimaced or clutched her stomach, Jenn's heart sank a little more, but she maintained a reassuring smile, determined to offer whatever comfort she could.
"Here, Christine, take small sips of the ginger ale. It might help settle your stomach," Jenn suggested gently, handing over the glass with a fresh slice of lemon.
Christine nodded weakly, her hand trembling as she brought the glass to her lips. "Thank you, Jenn. I appreciate you being here."
"I'm here for you, Christine. You don't have to go through this alone," Jenn replied softly, adjusting the pillows behind Christine's back.
As Christine took a few sips, Jenn continued to monitor her closely. "How are you feeling now? Is the nausea easing up at all?"
Christine shook her head, her brow furrowed in discomfort. "Not really. It's like a rollercoaster—comes and goes in waves."
