(Chapter 2)

Syha

I can't tell the time when I'm awake from my deep sleep from muffled sounds. At first my sleep induced brain couldn't comprehend the sound, but as I came to, I realize it's someone throwing up or retching.

My eyes snap open, wide awake as I realize Araan's not on bed and it's him throwing his guts out in the ensuite washroom. Tying my silk gown around my stomach, I bolt to the washroom and thankfully it was unlocked so I let myself in cautiously.

The sight breaks my heart.

Araan was slouched over the toilet, dry heaving at this point. Damp hair stuck to his sweaty forehead and his usual pale skin looks paler and flushed from all the throwing up.

I kneel behind him and gently place my hand on his back. When he doesn't flinch or push me back, I slowly rub small circles on his back and hold his hair back from his face as he gags, the painful sound making me ache.

As my hand comes in contact with his skin, I can feel the heat radiating off of him. My best guess is he caught the stomach bug.

"It's okay, it's okay. Let it out." I murmur softly into the otherwise quiet room.

He slumps back when he's done. I flush the toilet and help him stand up on shaky legs. I lead him to the sink and grab his toothbrush, putting paste on it and hand it to him. He takes it without a word and when our eyes meet through the mirror, for the first time since I've known him, I see emotions in them.

There's vulnerability, longing and deep, deep sadness. The vivid view of their raw emotions dancing in his hazel irises takes my breath away and hits my heart. Even though fogged from being sick, his eyes speak more than they ever have over the past month.

"Brush your teeth, I'll prepare a bath for you." I tell him, still rubbing his back as he nods shakily. That's also the most human reaction he has given me. Only proving how out-of-focus he currently is. "Getting all the sweat and vomit off would help you sleep better." I add, going over to the tub and turning the faucet on.

Making sure the temperature is warm and the tub is filled, I turn the faucet off. But I'm gonna use the head shower and wash his hair with cold water to help with the fever.

"Are you done?" Araan nods softly after rinsing his mouth and putting away his brush. "Can I?" I ask, gesturing to his shirt. He nods again.

I help him get out of his clothes, leaving him only in his briefs before guiding him inside the tub. He shivers at first but relaxes slowly, leaning his head at the edge. Grabbing the headshower, I wash his hair thoroughly. He keeps shuddering but eventually dozes off. When he's clean enough, he steps out of the tub and I drain it, then hand him a big towel.

After taking clothes for him from our closet, I return to find him leaning against the bathroom wall, towel in his hands. His eyes keep drooping and my heart breaks all over again for him.

"Come on, love. Let's get you dried up and in bed." I take his hand and he let himself guided to the bed and I push at his shoulders to make him sit down to dry his hair since he's too tall and I can't reach his head while standing properly.

He does so without any protest, blinking up at me. The whole I time I dry his hair, standing between his legs, he keeps staring up at me. As if calculating the world's hunger problem and trying to find a solution. He looks at me as if he's in a fever dream and nothing feels real.

A warm fuzzy jitter echoes in my heart as he becomes a putty in my hands, then I scold myself to remind that it's just because he's sick. When he's all well again, he'd be back to being the distant and cold CEO, not my husband anymore.

Taking care of him is my priority now, unreciprocated feelings should be shoved deeper down the treasure box and kept locked.

"All done." I smile after he's gotten in his tshirt and sweatpants for the night, hair dried and tousled beautifully despite his unwell body.

Making sure he's tucked under the duvet with his back to the headboard, I go back to the washroom and scour around the cabinets in search of medicines for puking and fever. Returning to him, I find him exactly where he was, still and eyes fixated ahead, in emptiness.

"Take them. You should feel better after a whole night's sleep."

He takes them without any complain, swallowing them with water, I urge him to finish the whole glass before he lays down and I tuck the duvet up to his chin. I stay seated next to him and for some unknown reason, his gaze remains on me.

"Get some sleep. I'll be here if you need me." I assure, brushing a gentle hand through his hair and his eyes flutter.

To the utter break of my heart, I notice they have moistured and the gorgeous tints of golden around his irises glisten with unshed tears.

"Thank you." He speaks for the first time that night, voice hoarse and a little choked up. "For everything."

The way he says it unravels the knots in my stomach and something blooms in my chest. Something forced to be buried and now it feels like I can breathe again. My own eyes shine with tears as I feel relief for having some progress in our life, pain for his unspoken vulnerability, and happiness that my husband's being taken care of when he needs it the most.

"I'm your partner for life, Araan. You never have to thank me for taking care of you. It's my responsibility." I reassure, my fingers still combing through his soft washed hair.

He sniffs and huddles under the duvet some more so his lips are hidden from my view, but I can see the slight tremble in them as he tries to hide it.

Long gone the stoic, cold, unbreakable CEO, leaving just the shell of a young boy who has been so lonely all his life that receiving care is like a dream to his aching soul now.

"N-no one's ever cared for me like this." He admits in the most fragile voice and my heart clenches painfully. "Mom and dad have always been busy and barely had any time for us. I-It felt good."

This has to the longest fucking conversation we ever had and the depth of it is giving me jitters and flutters, even if the topic is heavy and Araan's too weak to think rationally.

"But I'm here now." I reply within a heartbeat, taken aback by how firmly and genuinely I mean it. "I'll always take care of you. I vowed to do so, remember?" I smile.

Thankfully, he returns the smile, albeit weakly, but it's still there. I count it as a win.

"Get some sleep, okay?" He nods and immediately closes his eyes.

I keep stroking his hair for a while longer till his breath evens out and soft snores escape his parted lips. When I'm sure he's deep asleep, I mutter into the quiet of the night,

"I'll always be here for you."

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