The CEO's Match

Pushing Through

Nova's pov

I arrived at the office the next morning, feeling like I'd been hit by a freight train. My head throbbed, and my body ached with every step I took. Despite the feverish heat that had me sweating through my clothes, I pulled open the office door, determined not to let my illness get in the way.

"Morning, Nova," Rebecca said, her voice carrying a mix of surprise and concern as she glanced up from her desk.

"Hey," I managed to croak out, forcing a weak smile. I tried to ignore the dizziness threatening to topple me over and walked toward my desk, where I slumped into my chair.

Rebecca eyed me warily. "You don't look so good. Are you sure you're okay?"

I waved her off, feeling too exhausted to deal with concern right now. "I'm fine. Just a little under the weather. I'll be okay."

She didn't look convinced but nodded and went back to her work. I had more pressing concerns. The stack of files on my desk seemed to loom larger than ever, but I gritted my teeth and started working through them, determined to prove that I could handle it despite my condition.

Minutes felt like hours as I fought through the fog in my mind. My fingers trembled as I typed, and every so often, I had to close my eyes to steady my spinning head. My fever made the room feel like it was sweltering, and I could feel my energy draining rapidly.

By mid-morning, Alexander appeared in the office, his usual sharp demeanor softened by concern when he saw me. He walked over to my desk, his brow furrowed.

"Nova," he said, his voice firm but laced with worry, "you look terrible. What are you doing here?"

I tried to muster some defiance, but the effort made me dizzy. "I'm working. I can't afford to take a break. There's too much to do."

Alexander's gaze softened, and he shook his head. "This isn't a matter of just being tired. You're clearly sick. You need to go home and rest."

I shook my head stubbornly, feeling a mixture of frustration and defeat. "I can't. Not now. I need to be here."

Alexander's eyes narrowed slightly, and he reached out, placing a hand on my forehead. "You're burning up. This isn't optional. You need to go home."

The firmness in his voice left no room for argument. I started to protest, but the strength seemed to drain from me. "Fine," I said, my voice barely above a whisper. "I'll go. But only because you insist."

He nodded, giving me a supportive but firm look. "Get some rest. I'll handle things here until you're back on your feet."

I stood slowly, feeling the room tilt as I did. Alexander guided me gently towards the door, his hand steadying me as I walked. As I left the office, I felt a pang of frustration, but I also felt a small flicker of relief.

At least for today, I didn't have to prove my strength at work. I was going to take a break, even if it was reluctantly, and hopefully, I'd be back soon, ready to tackle whatever challenges lay ahead.

As soon as I returned home, I felt a wave of exhaustion hit me. The room spun slightly as I kicked off my shoes and trudged to my bedroom. I collapsed onto the bed, the cool sheets a welcome relief against my feverish skin.

I reached for the bottle of medication on my nightstand and took a dose, hoping it would help ease the pounding in my head. The heat of my fever made the room feel stifling, but I pushed through it, determined not to let my illness completely derail my plans.

Pulling out my laptop, I positioned it on the bed beside me. The screen flickered to life, casting a soft glow in the dim room. I was too stubborn to let a little thing like being sick stop me from working, especially after the progress I'd made recently.

I opened the files I'd been working on and tried to focus on the tasks at hand. My concentration was shaky at best, but I pushed through, tackling emails, reports, and strategic plans with the same intensity I had when I was well. Each keystroke felt laborious, and my vision swam in and out of focus, but I kept going, fueled by sheer willpower.

Despite Alexander's insistence that I needed rest, he hadn't specified where that rest should take place. So here I was, propped up on my bed, working through the feverish haze. I knew it wasn't the most efficient way to work, but I couldn't shake the feeling that I needed to be productive, even if just a little.

The medication started to take effect, dulling the throbbing pain in my head and making my eyes feel heavy. I glanced at the clock and realized how late it was. I was exhausted, but I felt a small sense of accomplishment in having managed to get some work done, even under these conditions.

As I closed my laptop and turned off the lights, the darkness of the room felt comforting, and I sank into the bed with a sigh. My body felt like it was finally giving in, and I let myself drift into a restless sleep, hoping that tomorrow would bring a bit more energy and clarity.

For now, I'd done what I could, and that had to be enough. Even in my weakened state, I refused to let go of the drive that had pushed me to this point. Rest and recovery would come, but the work had to continue, even if only from my bed.