The afternoon sun streamed through the glass ceiling, casting intricate patterns of light and shadow across the room. A gentle breeze swayed the vines hanging from the terrace, their emerald leaves trembling as if whispering secrets to the wind. The air was warm, carrying the faint scent of blooming flowers from the garden outside.
Silvia stood by the bed, her expression calm but focused. She turned to Jim, her voice firm yet reassuring. "Get towels and hot water. I'll take her temperature first."
Jim nodded, his movements quick and purposeful. "Okay!" he replied, his voice tinged with urgency. He hurried out of the room, his footsteps echoing down the hallway.
Inside the room, Tina lay beneath layers of soft blankets, her pale face barely visible against the ivory pillows. Her black hair, usually full of life, clung to her forehead in damp strands. She stirred slightly, letting out a soft, weary sigh. The room was quiet, except for the faint rustle of the blankets and the occasional creak of the floorboards.
Jim returned with a basin of warm water, his eyes flickering with concern as they settled on Tina's unconscious form. "How is she? Is it serious?" he asked, his voice edged with worry despite his efforts to keep it steady.
Silvia glanced up from where she knelt beside the bed, her fingers brushing gently over Tina's fevered skin. "Don't worry," she reassured him, her tone calm and confident. "She's okay. It's just a low fever."
Yet, as she held Tina's frail hand in hers, a shadow of doubt crossed Silvia's mind. She prayed she was right.
Jim placed his hand on Tina's forehead, his brows furrowing as he felt the heat radiating from her skin. "But her face is hot…" he muttered, his voice laced with concern.
Silvia stood, crossing her arms as she met his gaze. "People with a fever have hot faces," she stated matter-of-factly, her sharp eyes unwavering. She exhaled sharply, turning away. "Alright. You can leave now."
Jim blinked, caught off guard. "Huh?"
"I'll take care of her," Silvia said firmly, her lips pressing into a thin line. "I'll wipe her body with warm water. That'll help bring down the fever."
"I can help," Jim protested, his voice tinged with frustration.
Silvia's sharp gaze met his, her tone leaving no room for argument. "Seriously?"
He hesitated, his shoulders slumping in defeat. "No," she said firmly, stepping forward and pushing him toward the door. Before he could protest further, the door slammed shut in his face.
Standing outside, Jim let out a defeated sigh, ruffling his hair in frustration. "I really just wanted to help…" he muttered to himself, his voice barely above a whisper.
Inside the room, Silvia carefully dipped a cloth into the basin of warm water, wringing it out before gently pressing it against Tina's feverish cheek. A soft whimper escaped Tina's lips, her fingers twitching slightly as the cool cloth soothed her burning skin.
As Silvia tended to Tina, Jim's words echoed in her mind: "She is the most important person to me." Her grip on the cloth tightened, and for a moment, an unreadable emotion flickered across her face. She remained silent, her eyes darkening as she processed his words.
She lowered her gaze, her hands steady as she continued to care for Tina. The room was quiet, except for the soft sound of Tina's breathing and the occasional rustle of the blankets. Silvia sighed softly, her fingers tightening slightly on the cloth. She knew this wasn't over yet.
..........................
[Outside the Bedroom]
The soft glow of the evening sun filtered through the glass door, casting golden streaks across the tiled floor. Jim stood with his arms crossed, his sharp gaze flickering toward Silvia as she stepped out of the room. Her hair caught the light, framing her face as she closed the door behind her.
He didn't waste a second. "How's she?" His voice was edged with concern, betraying the composed expression he wore.
Silvia hesitated for a moment, her amethyst eyes scanning his face. She exhaled, then spoke in a calm, measured tone. "She's taken the medicine. She'll be fine after some sleep."
The tension in Jim's shoulders eased at her words. He let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding and allowed a rare smile to cross his lips. "Great."
Silvia's eyes widened slightly at the sight of his smile—bright and innocent, so unlike the usual arrogance he displayed. She quickly composed herself, her gaze lowering as she spoke. "This girl… she's not your usual type."
Jim chuckled softly, his tone light but sincere. "Is she? Well, I don't know, but when I found out, I've fallen in love with her."
His words struck a chord in Silvia's mind. She had never heard him speak of love, much less admit to falling for someone. Her expression softened, though a hint of sadness lingered in her eyes.
Jim exhaled, running a hand through his hair. His voice was quiet but sincere. "Thank you. I owe you a big favor."
Silvia smiled, placing a reassuring hand on his arm. "C'mon. We're friends."
Jim wanted to say more, but she was already stepping back. "Well, I have other things to do. I gotta go," Silvia said, adjusting her posture as if bracing herself.
His chest tightened, but he forced a small nod. "Okay. See you."
Silvia hesitated for a moment, her gaze lingering on him. "...See you," she echoed, though something in her voice made it feel uncertain.
As she turned to leave, she glanced back at the closed bedroom door, her thoughts lingering on the sleeping girl inside.
..........................
[Morning]
Tina's eyes fluttered open, her vision hazy as she tried to adjust to the unfamiliar ceiling above her. A dull ache lingered in her head, remnants of the fever that had consumed her. She pushed herself up slightly, her delicate nightgown shifting as she glanced around the room. The soft glow of morning light filtered through elegant curtains, casting gentle shadows across the pristine sheets.
"I…" she murmured, her voice hoarse from sleep.
Her heart pounded as confusion took hold. "Why… am I here?"
The last thing she remembered was collapsing from exhaustion. But this—this wasn't her room.
Her gaze fell on the figure resting at her bedside. Jim, the person she least expected, was slumped in a chair, his head down and arms folded as he slept. His breathing was steady, his face softened in slumber.
"It's him!" she whispered, her eyes widening.
Memories of the feverish night were blurry, but she faintly recalled a soothing voice, a gentle touch, and someone tirelessly tending to her. Her gaze softened as she watched him—exhausted, yet still by her side.
"Did he really stay all night… just for me?" she murmured, warmth blooming in her chest.