Fever

That morning, an unusual atmosphere cloaked the master bedroom, which usually felt cold and formal. Aluna was awakened by the sound of a harsh cough and faint groans coming from Rey's side of the bed. She frowned, disturbed by the unfamiliar noises. Normally, Rey would wake up first and leave her alone in the vast bed without a word. But today was different.

Aluna turned over and saw Rey lying restlessly beside her. His usually pale face was flushed with fever, and his lips were dry and cracked. His breathing was labored and wheezy, each inhale sounding like a struggle to pull in air. His firm body squirmed beneath the thick blanket, searching in vain for a comfortable position. Seeing Rey—typically cold and dominant—looking so weak and vulnerable struck an unexpected chord of pity in Aluna's heart.

His cough rang out again, this time louder and more painful. Instinctively, Aluna reached out and touched his forehead. The burning heat on his skin startled her. His fever was dangerously high. She quickly got out of bed, a strange sense of worry gripping her heart. Although her relationship with Rey was built on a contract and revenge, seeing him this sick stirred mixed emotions within her.

She rushed out of the room to look for Maya. She found the head maid speaking anxiously with some other maids near the staircase. Their faces were pale and panicked.

"Maya, Mr. Rey has a very high fever," Aluna said, her tone filled with concern. "Have you called the doctor?"

Maya turned with a cold, disapproving look. "Yes, Mrs. Aluna. The doctor is on the way. You should return to the room and let us take care of Mr. Rey."

Maya's cutting words reminded Aluna of her real position in the household. But seeing the panic and helplessness on the maids' faces, Aluna felt she couldn't just stay in her room.

"Still, maybe there's something I can do to help," Aluna said quietly but firmly. "I've cared for sick people before." She recalled her mother, who had always patiently nursed family members back in the village.

Maya looked at her with a condescending gaze. "You? What do you know about taking care of the sick, Mrs. Aluna? It's best if you rest and let us, who are more experienced, handle Mr. Rey."

Before Aluna could respond, another louder groan of pain echoed from the direction of their bedroom. The maids grew more frantic, and Aluna noticed the hesitation in their eyes. They seemed unsure of what to do to help their usually strong master.

"Let me try," Aluna said again, this time more urgently. "I won't hurt him. At least until the doctor arrives."

After a brief debate and seeing Rey's condition worsening behind the slightly ajar door, Maya finally sighed in resignation. "Very well, Mrs. Aluna. But remember, if anything goes wrong, you'll be held fully responsible."

Aluna nodded and quickly returned to the bedroom. The air inside felt hot and stifling. The scent of medicine mixed with the sour smell of sweat and Rey's heavy breaths. He still writhed restlessly in bed, his lips now more chapped and dry. He muttered incoherently in his sleep, frowning as if in deep pain that consumed his entire body.

Aluna approached the bed with careful steps. She saw Rey's body trembling violently under the blanket from the high fever. His handsome face looked pale beneath the flush of fever, and his usually sharp and calculating eyes were tightly shut, revealing a fragility that touched her heart. She momentarily forgot all the cold and painful treatment she had received from him, focusing only on her desire to ease his suffering.

Hesitantly, she took a clean cloth and dipped it into a basin of cold water on the bedside table. She gently wrung it out and placed it on Rey's burning forehead. He groaned softly, his brow slightly furrowed, but he didn't reject the cooling touch that offered a small relief. Aluna continued to compress his forehead and neck with care, hoping to reduce his worrying body heat.

As she gently wiped the tense muscles of his neck, Rey's eyes unexpectedly opened slowly. His gaze was vacant and dazed, as if he didn't recognize the figure beside him. But confusion and a hint of pain glimmered in his fever-clouded dark eyes.

"Who...?" Rey whispered weakly, his voice hoarse and barely audible, like the whisper of a night breeze.

"It's me, Aluna," she replied softly, trying to sound calm and comforting, her voice a whisper near his ear.

Rey blinked several times, trying to focus his blurred vision. After a moment that felt like eternity, his gaze sharpened slightly, and Aluna saw a mixture of surprise and confusion in his tired eyes.

"You...?" he whispered again, this time clearer but still faint, his voice like a breath held back.

Aluna gave a small nod, a gentle, faint smile on her lips. "I'll take care of you, Rey. Just rest."

Rey looked unsure and slightly suspicious, like a child not yet trusting a stranger. Still, he didn't resist when Aluna resumed gently pressing the cool cloth to his forehead. Silence returned to the stuffy room, broken only by Rey's heavy breaths and Aluna's quiet movements as she tried to lower his fever.

Suddenly, as Aluna was changing the compress, feeling the heat on his skin rise again, Rey's hand moved slowly from under the blanket. With a weak but deliberate motion, his warm, slightly trembling fingers touched Aluna's hand on his forehead. Then, almost unconsciously, those fingers gripped her hand tightly, as if seeking an anchor in the ocean of fever that tossed his awareness and robbed him of control.

Rey's grip was hot and a little rough, but there was an unspoken softness within it—a deep need for human touch amidst helplessness. Aluna felt the warmth of his palm spread through her body, mingling with an unfamiliar sensation she couldn't name. There was something intimate in that touch, a physical connection that went beyond the coldness of their contractual relationship.

Aluna looked at Rey's flushed face, sweat beading at his temples. His lips parted slightly, releasing shallow, ragged breaths. He seemed so fragile, so different from the dominant figure who always controlled everything. Her pity for him deepened, mixing with a strange emotion she couldn't define. Could it be that behind his cold mask, Rey harbored a vulnerability and a need for someone's touch?

Without thinking, Aluna turned her hand over and returned the grip. Their fingers intertwined, creating a warmth that felt out of place in the chilling dread of the room. Rey didn't let go—on the contrary, he tightened his hold slightly, as if Aluna's touch gave him a sliver of peace amidst the fever ravaging his body. His eyes remained shut, but his expression looked a little calmer. Aluna continued holding his hand, feeling the rapid pulse beneath his skin, and silently wondered what had happened to this cold man that left him so weak—and so in need of a woman who was supposed to be his enemy.