Raphael had texted her at five o'clock to ask what she wanted for dinner. It was now six, and he was calling.
"I'm home. I just don't have an appetite," she murmured.
Just as she spoke, a sharp knock echoed from her front door.
"I'm outside. Can you open the door? You're sick, aren't you?"
Aria didn't want to see anyone right now. "Your immune system is compromised. We shouldn't see each other today."
Raphael paused for a moment, his voice softening. "Could you stop treating me like a fragile patient?"
"Ignoring your condition doesn't magically boost your immunity."
"...A common cold isn't contagious," Raphael replied smoothly. "I just want to check on you for one second. I promise I won't bother you."
Unable to argue with his persistence, Aria dragged herself out of bed. She was wearing a simple, loose nightgown; her hair was a messy tangle, and a feverish, unnatural flush painted her cheeks.
When she opened the door, a rush of cold air swept into the apartment, making her shiver violently.
Raphael's brow furrowed. He immediately stepped inside and firmly shut the door behind him, the movements seamless and commanding.
Aria blinked. "I thought you were only staying for one second?"
"How could I possibly walk away when you look like this?"
Raphael reached out and rested his hand against her forehead. It wasn't as burning hot as he had feared, and some of the tension visibly left his shoulders.
"When you're sick, you need a light meal. Go put on a heavy sweater and wait for dinner."



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