The days that followed moved slowly like rain slipping down a windowpane on a gray afternoon.
Aneira had spent most of her time in bed, bundled under thick blankets, as her body slowly fought off the fever. But what she hadn't expected was how present Jaxton would be. Not just physically, but emotionally. She hadn't expected him to stay by her side without complaint, to be gentle with his touch, or to care so quietly yet so deeply.
Each morning, she would find herself slowly waking up to the low hum of his voice on a call, muffled behind the closed door of his study. And each time, she would pretend to still be asleep, afraid that if she moved too soon, the comforting rhythm of his presence might fade.
