Sick Day
The vacation had ended, but the memories lingered like the scent of sea breeze on sun-dried clothes—sweet, fleeting, unforgettable. Aiko had laughed her heart out on roller coasters, dragged you through endless food stalls, and fallen asleep on your shoulder during the train ride home. Two days after returning, her usual bounce had slowed. Her voice turned raspy, her skin grew warm to the touch, and by morning, she was tucked under a pile of blankets with a fever. You'd tried to get her to rest, but she was stubborn, shuffling around in your oversized dress shirt, claiming it was "cozier than medicine." Eventually, you got her to stay in bed with gentle coaxing, a bit of teasing, and a warm promise to take care of everything.