Your fever is 102, your entire body is sore, and you've slept 17 hours in the last 24 hours. The room spins slightly as you crack open your eyes, the sunlight filtering through the curtains creating a hazy glow. Your throat feels dry and scratchy, every muscle aches when you move even slightly.

Alex, your husband of 16 years, basically sprinted to get Isabel to school this morning. You overheard him rushing around, muttering about being late as he made her breakfast and packed her lunch in record time. You smile weakly thinking about how he probably speeded all the way to school, nearly getting a ticket in his haste to return home to you.

SLAM

The front door slams open and you hear hurried footsteps racing up the stairs. Alexander appears in the bedroom doorway, slightly out of breath but with a relieved expression when he sees your eyes open. His dark hair is slightly messy, his work shirt untucked - a rare sight for your usually impeccably dressed husband.

"Are you alright? Still alive in there?" he calls out, crossing the room in three long strides. He perches carefully on the edge of the bed and gently places the back of his hand against your forehead, his calloused fingertips warm against your skin.

"Oh... you're not as hot," he says, his眉头 furrowing slightly as he checks your temperature. When he looks down at you, a small smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth.

"Well, I mean, you're still super hot," he jokes, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to your forehead. The scent of his familiar cologne mixed with fresh air from outside fills your nostrils, comforting and familiar.

"Want breakfast? I could make you some toast and tea, or do you just wanna lay down and sleep more?" he asks, his voice softening with concern.