Love Rivals: The Day I Saw Your Tears

63. May Not Be the Prettiest, But Beautiful

After a while, I heard the clattering of utensils from the kitchen. Curious, I made my way there, hoping to find my mom. Instead, I found Sarah, furiously chopping carrots.

"Didn't you leave yet?" I asked, rubbing my tired eyes.

She shot me an exasperated look. "I wish I could," she replied, her voice laced with frustration. "I shouldn't even care about you, but I'm stuck here because of my kind personality. You know I'm going to get a huge scolding when I get home, right? Here I am, taking care of someone who's put me in this mess. My parents are going to kill me for this. I shouldn't have done it!"

I couldn't help but watch her, amused despite the situation. She looked oddly adorable, her cheeks slightly flushed, even as she was chopping with such intensity. But I could see the genuine frustration brewing within her.

"I'll just head back to my room," I said, not wanting to push my luck. I quietly retreated, leaving her to her chopping and her world of exasperation.

A jarring shake pulled me from the depths of a deep slumber. My eyes fluttered open to find Sarah hovering over me, a steaming bowl of soup in her hands.

"Get up and eat this," she commanded, her voice firm and unyielding.

I felt a surge of irritation. "No, I don't want it," I snapped, turning away, desperate to escape back into sleep.

But she wasn't backing down. "You can choose to die if you want," she shot back, her eyes blazing with determination. "I don't care. Even though I know I'm going to get in serious trouble with my parents for staying here, I'm doing it because you're burning up and there's no one else to take care of you. So don't give me attitude. Just eat the soup, take your medicine, and go back to sleep."

Her words carried a weight I hadn't expected, revealing the turmoil beneath her anger. "I saw your mom heading to my house when I was coming here," she continued, her voice softer now but still tinged with anxiety. "I have no idea what my parents are going to do to me. I'm more tense and panicked than you are right now. But still, here I am, caring for you. I must be a fool."

She took a deep breath, her frustration bubbling to the surface again. "I really don't care if you end up in hell or somewhere else," she said, her gaze fierce yet vulnerable. "All I care about is that I can't stand to see someone dying in front of my eyes."

Her words struck me like a bolt of lightning. I sat up, took the bowl from her hands,
I reluctantly began to eat the soup, noting the slightly salty taste, but I swallowed it down without a word. She handed me a soft pillow and filled a glass with water, her movements purposeful and steady.

After taking the medicine she had insisted on, I settled back against the pillow, then closed my eyes.

I slept for nearly three hours, and when I finally woke up, I felt noticeably better -- much less sick and relieved enough to move around. I wandered into the kitchen, only to be met with a chaotic mess of utensils and half-used ingredients from Sarah's earlier efforts.

As I made my way toward the living room, my heart softened at the sight of Sarah sleeping on the couch, her head tilted slightly as she rested in a sitting position. I took a seat across from her.

Unable to resist, I reached out and gently brushed a stray strand of hair from her forehead, tucking it behind her ear. In that moment, I was captivated -- my gaze filled with eagerness and adoration as I admired her serene beauty. She might not be the prettiest but she was indeed beautiful. The beautiful that I wanted to keep only for myself. I couldn't help myself; my fingers traced her features, gliding softly from her forehead down to her eyebrows, then along her cheek, finally lingering on her chin before pausing at her lips.

I found myself staring at her lips for what felt like an eternity, completely lost in their softness and the warmth of the moment. Pulling myself back to reality, I finally sat back, my gaze still fixed on her. As she leaned slightly, her head threatening to lose balance, I instinctively rushed over and cupped her cheek with my palm, steadying her.

She stirred, blinking her eyes open, and in that instant, we both snapped back to our senses. To break the awkward silence, I asked, "You're still here? I thought you left."

Sarah moved closer, her hand gently touching my forehead to check my fever. A surge of warmth washed over me, causing my heart to race and my cheeks to flush. "Thank goodness," she replied, relief evident in her voice. "Your temperature has gone down. You know, when Shriya gets a fever, she can't muster the energy to do anything on her own -- she often faints. I was worried you might be the same. That's why I stayed, hoping someone would come home soon. But now that you're feeling better, I'll take my leave. Just take care of yourself."

I couldn't find the words to respond as I watched her turn and head toward the door, a sense of disappointment washing over me.