Celia's sharp eyes caught the way his body wavered, his strength seemingly drained in an instant.
His legs gave out beneath him, and he collapsed onto the bed, his arms barely mustering the energy to break his fall.
His face, once filled with determination, was now pale and slightly damp with sweat, his eyelids fluttering as if he was struggling to stay conscious.
Without hesitation, Celia's instincts took over.
The lover in her faded into the background, and the trained nurse stepped forward in its place.
Her posture straightened, her hands moved with practiced precision, and her mind quickly assessed the situation.
"Are you okay?" she asked, her voice laced with worry as she hurried toward him.
Her hands, warm and trembling, reached for his forehead, brushing aside damp strands of hair to feel his temperature.
A frown settled between her brows as she pressed her palm against his clammy skin, searching for any sign of fever.
