Ashnoor

Love's Deception

Arav came home burning with fever.

Ashnoor was in the living room when she saw him walk in—his normally sharp posture slumped, his face paler than usual.

"I'm fine," he muttered, walking toward the stairs.

But before he could take another step, his vision swayed, and he nearly collapsed.

Ashnoor rushed to him, catching his arm just in time.

"You're burning up," she murmured, touching his forehead. "Why didn't you tell me you were sick?"

"I don't have time to be sick," he mumbled.

She rolled her eyes. "Well, your body doesn't care about your schedule."

With difficulty, she helped him to the bed. His breathing was uneven, and his skin was hot to the touch.

Without thinking, she grabbed a damp cloth and pressed it to his forehead. "Stay still."

Arav opened his eyes slightly, watching her.

"Shut up, Arav," she interrupted. "For once in your life, just let someone take care of you."

A flicker of something crossed his face—surprise? Maybe something more?

As she sat beside him, pressing the cool cloth against his skin, she realized something.

She had seen him weak. She had seen him vulnerable.

And it didn't make him any less powerful.

In fact, it made him feel more human than ever.