Chapter 5: Fever Dreams and Cold Truths

With this weighing on my mind, I drank a few extra glasses of wine at the party. Later, after catching a chill, I came down with a high fever on the way home. My maid had to help me out of the car—I nearly collapsed. Everything spun around me.

The world spun around me, the lights of passing cars blurring into streaks of color. My maid’s arm was the only thing keeping me upright as we stumbled up the front steps. I barely remember getting inside.

Just then, Nathaniel came home and caught me. “What’s wrong?” His voice cut through the haze, sharp and worried. I looked up, blinking in confusion.

His voice was sharper than usual, laced with worry. He dropped his briefcase on the porch and rushed to my side, his hands steady as he caught me before I could fall. My head lolled against his shoulder.

Seeing my flushed face, he frowned and pressed a hand to my forehead. Maybe it was the lingering chill of spring, but his hand felt icy cold. It was so soothing, I couldn’t help but snuggle closer to his chest. I let myself lean into him, just for a second.

His shirt smelled faintly of aftershave and the crisp night air. For a moment, I let myself relax, letting him hold me up as the world tilted around us. I wanted to stay like that forever.

His whole body tensed. I felt it, the way his muscles tightened beneath my cheek. It was like he was fighting some invisible battle, torn between concern and discomfort. I wondered what he was thinking.

My groggy mind cleared in an instant. I quickly straightened up. “Thank you, Nathan. I must have caught a chill.” I tried to sound casual, but my voice was thin and shaky. I could feel the embarrassment burning in my cheeks.

Nathaniel’s expression didn’t change, but his lips pressed into a thin line. “I’ll call the doctor.” His words were gentle but firm.

He was already reaching for the phone, his movements brisk and efficient. I watched him, feeling useless and small.

“It’s nothing serious. I’ll just sleep it off under a warm quilt and sweat it out.” I tried to sound confident, but I wasn’t sure I believed it myself.

I tried to wave him off, but he just shook his head, his jaw set in that stubborn way I’d come to recognize. He always meant well, even if he was impossible to argue with.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Nathaniel snapped, frowning even deeper. I flinched, but I could hear the worry in his voice.

He sounded more worried than angry, but I still felt a pang of guilt. I hated making him fret, especially when he had so much on his plate already. My heart twisted.

Maybe my behavior was unseemly, and it made him angry. Now that his career was going so well, he didn’t need to save money on doctors anymore. Feeling guilty, I lowered my eyes. I wished I could disappear.

I twisted my hands in my lap, wishing I could sink through the floor. The last thing I wanted was to be a burden to him. I hated feeling so helpless.

But then Nathaniel knelt down and, before I could react, lifted me onto his back. I let out a little yelp, surprised by his strength.

His movements were gentle but firm. I clung to his shoulders, startled by the sudden closeness. The world swayed as he carried me up the stairs, his footsteps steady and sure. I felt safe for the first time in ages.

Aside from our wedding day when he carried me across the threshold, this was the first time he’d been so close to me. I couldn’t help but feel a flutter of excitement. My cheeks burned.

I pressed my cheek against his back, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breath. For a moment, I let myself imagine what it would be like if things were different—if we could be like other couples, laughing and loving without all the walls between us. I wanted to stay there forever.

But in just a moment, that excitement faded. The ache came back, sharper than ever.

Reality crept back in, heavy and cold. I reminded myself not to hope for things I couldn’t have. I blinked back tears.

I lay on his back, silent, just greedily breathing in his scent. I wanted to memorize every detail.

It was a mix of soap, old books, and something uniquely him. I closed my eyes, letting myself memorize it, just in case I ever had to leave for good. I promised myself I wouldn’t forget.

Too bad—he looked good, but couldn’t give me what I needed. I felt guilty for thinking it, but the bitterness wouldn’t go away. I hugged the memory of his warmth to myself, knowing it would have to be enough.

The thought was bitter, but I couldn’t help it. I hugged the memory of his warmth to myself, knowing it would have to be enough. I swallowed hard, forcing myself to move on.