Sam sat on the floor next to Mahiru, watching her carefully as she took small sips of the warm tea he had made earlier. Her cheeks were still flushed from the fever, but at least she wasn't shivering anymore.
"So… what exactly happened?" he finally asked.
Mahiru blinked at him before glancing away, her fingers tightening around the cup. "Well… I guess it was the ice cream."
Sam frowned. "Ice cream?"
She gave a small nod, her voice quiet. "Last night, at the parlor. I ate too much, I think."
He sighed, rubbing his forehead. "You're telling me you got a fever… because you overdid it on ice cream?"
Mahiru pouted slightly, puffing her cheeks. "It's not my fault! I didn't think I'd get sick."
Sam shook his head, suppressing a chuckle. "You really are hopeless sometimes."
Mahiru shot him a weak glare but ended up laughing softly. The sound was light, soothing—almost making Sam forget she was still running a fever.
"Anyway, thanks for coming all the way here," she said after a moment, her voice softer than before.
"Of course," Sam said simply. "You weren't answering my messages. What else was I supposed to do?"
Mahiru looked down at her cup, hiding a small smile. "I see…"
After chatting for a bit, Sam glanced at the time. It was already late, and Mahiru needed rest.
"Well, I should get going now," he said, stretching. "You should sleep properly."
Mahiru nodded and slowly stood up to walk him to the door. But as she took a step forward, her vision blurred. The world tilted, and before she could react, her knees buckled.
"Mahiru!"
Sam caught her just in time, holding her against his chest as she nearly collapsed. Her breathing was uneven, and her body was burning with fever.
"You're burning up," he muttered, concern deepening in his voice.
Mahiru tried to speak, but she was too weak to respond. Sam clenched his jaw, looking around.
It was late—too late. The nearest hospital would be closed, and there was no way he could leave her alone like this.
Making a quick decision, he carefully lifted her into his arms.
"Hey—wait, what are you—" Mahiru mumbled weakly, but her protests faded as exhaustion took over.
Sam carried her to her room, pushing open the door with his foot.
The room was cozy and neat, though a little cluttered in places. A small bookshelf filled with novels stood in the corner, and a desk with papers and stationery scattered across it sat near the window. A soft, lavender scent lingered in the air.
Gently, he laid Mahiru down on her bed, tucking the blanket around her.
She stirred slightly, her fevered eyes barely opening. "Sam…"
"Just rest," he said firmly, pressing a cool, wet cloth against her forehead.
Mahiru's lips parted slightly as if she wanted to say something, but sleep overtook her before she could.
Sam let out a breath, running a hand through his hair.
He glanced around the room, his eyes settling on small details—like the single framed picture of Mahiru and her family on the desk. A soft scarf draped over the chair, a plushie sitting on the bed beside her. It was the first time he'd been in her space like this, seeing the little things that made it her home.
His gaze returned to her.
Even in her feverish state, she looked… peaceful. Vulnerable, even.
Sam sighed and leaned back in the chair beside her bed. He wasn't going anywhere tonight.
He watched over her, making sure the cloth on her forehead stayed cool, occasionally checking her temperature. The room was quiet, apart from the sound of her soft breathing.
Then, in the middle of the sleep, Mahiru suddenly stirred.
Her eyes fluttered open slightly, unfocused and hazy. "…Sam?"
"I'm here," he said immediately, leaning closer. "Are you okay?"
Mahiru blinked slowly, her expression unreadable. Then, to his surprise, she reached out weakly, her fingers barely brushing against his hand.
"Please Stay…" she murmured before drifting back into sleep.
Sam stared at her for a moment, then let out a small, helpless chuckle.
"…Yeah, I'll stay."
With that, he leaned back again, settling in for the night.
It was going to be a long night, but strangely… he didn't mind.
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