Chapter 188

Hayden was unlocking his door, a bag of vegetables in hand. My sudden movement startled him; he turned, eyes narrowing. I stared, feeling strangely detached. I didn't speak, simply watched, completely zoned out.

Only when Hayden asked, "What's up?" did I return to reality. I shook my head, still disoriented.

"Are you sick?" he asked, setting down the bag and approaching.

Unable to speak, I shook my head again, unsure of my own condition. Then, unexpectedly, I felt something cool against my forehead—Hayden's hand. His voice sharpened with concern. "You're burning up."

Still dazed, I barely registered his words. Hayden seemed to sense my confusion. Before I could react, he entered my apartment and lifted me into his arms. My lightheadedness intensified in his grip; instinctively, I clung to him.

He carried me to the couch, then glanced around. "Where are your slippers?"

Only then did I realize I was barefoot. I hadn't noticed. I blinked, too disoriented to respond.

With a soft sigh, Hayden retrieved my slippers from my bedroom and gently placed them on my feet. "Do you have a thermometer?" he asked.

"I want some water," I mumbled, ignoring his question.

Hayden paused, then went to get water, only to discover the pitcher was empty. Without a word, he scooped me up again and carried me out of my apartment.

I didn't ask where we were going; I simply trusted him. It didn't matter; I felt safe in his arms.

Hayden brought me to his apartment, gently setting me on his couch. He fetched water to boil, then returned with a thermometer. Handing it to me, he asked, "Do you know how to use this?"

I hesitated. Sensing my uncertainty, he placed the thermometer in my hand, gently supporting my grip. "I can't exactly take your temperature for you. Just put it under your arm."

Reassured of my grasp, he released my hand. "I'll get you some water, and then we'll give you some medicine. If it doesn't get better, I'm taking you to the hospital."

"Check your temperature first, okay?" he added when I remained still.

"Oh," I mumbled, snapping out of it. Without thinking, I lowered my collar and placed the thermometer under my arm, oblivious to Hayden's presence.

He quickly looked away, waiting until it was in place before heading to the kitchen. A few minutes later, he returned with water and a pill.

"Here, take this," he said, offering it.

I took the pill and water, prepared to swallow it. But I couldn't. The pill lingered on my tongue, dissolving and spreading a bitter taste. I recoiled and opened my mouth to spit it out.

Hayden reacted swiftly, catching the partially dissolved pill—and my spit—in his hand, without flinching.

I froze, mortified.

"It's fine. Just sip some water. We'll try the meds later," he said calmly.

"You want some candy or something?" he asked, noticing my continued daze.

I didn't answer, simply lowered my head and drank the water.

He left briefly and returned with a small, clear candy.

"It's sugar-free," he said, offering it.

I didn't open my mouth, but a wave of nostalgia washed over me. As a child, my parents had given me sugar-free candies after medicine, fearing cavities. Real sweets were rare, but occasionally they'd offer one, pretending it was a special treat.

Something within me softened. Hayden waited patiently.