Ella woke up to the dull ache in her head and the uncomfortable heat coursing through her body. Her throat felt like sandpaper, and every breath was a struggle, shallow and heavy. She blinked, trying to make sense of the room bathed in soft morning light filtering through the curtains. The events of the previous night came rushing back—her car breaking down, Nicholas's unexpected kindness, and that frustratingly charming smirk that had stayed in her mind long after she went to bed.
But now, all she could think about was how utterly miserable she felt. She groaned, pulling the blanket over her head to block out the light. Her limbs felt weighed down, and even the thought of getting up seemed impossible.
Minutes—or maybe hours—passed. She wasn't sure. Just as she thought about forcing herself to move, there was a soft knock at the door. Before she could muster the energy to respond, the door opened, and Nicholas's voice broke the silence.
"Ella?" he called, his tone light, though she could hear a hint of concern. "You haven't come down for breakfast. Are you planning to sleep the whole day away?"
She winced at the sound of his voice. "Go away," she croaked, her throat protesting every word.
Nicholas stepped inside, shutting the door behind him. "That doesn't sound good," he said, his footsteps drawing closer. "Are you okay?"
Ella peeked out from under the blanket, her pale face and tired eyes meeting his sharp gaze. "I'm fine," she muttered, though her hoarse voice and flushed cheeks betrayed her.
Nicholas crossed his arms, his expression skeptical. "You don't look fine."
"I'll be fine," she insisted, trying to sit up. The effort left her dizzy, and she collapsed back onto the pillow with a groan.
Nicholas frowned, stepping closer to the bed. He crouched down, his face level with hers. "You're burning up," he said, his tone soft but firm. "Why didn't you say anything?"
"It's nothing," she murmured, her eyes fluttering shut. "I just need rest."
"Rest, huh?" Nicholas stood, his lips pressing into a thin line. "Stay here. Don't move."
Ella wanted to argue, but the room was spinning, and her body felt like it was made of lead. She gave a weak nod, letting her eyes close again.
A few minutes later, Nicholas returned, a glass of water and a small bottle of medicine in his hands. He set them on the nightstand before sitting on the edge of the bed, his weight causing the mattress to dip slightly.
"Here," he said, his voice gentler than before. "You need to take this."
Ella opened her eyes, blinking blearily at the items he held out. "I don't need—"
"Stop arguing," he interrupted, his tone leaving no room for debate. "You're sick, and you're not going to get better by being stubborn."
With a sigh, she took the glass of water and the medicine, her hands trembling slightly. Nicholas watched her closely, his brow furrowed.
"Good," he said once she had swallowed the pills. "Now lie back down."
Ella hesitated, glancing at him. "You don't have to fuss over me. I'll be fine."
Nicholas rolled his eyes, his lips curving into a smirk. "You're terrible at accepting help, you know that?"
"I don't like being a burden," she muttered, her voice barely above a whisper.
"You're not a burden," Nicholas said, his tone softer now. "And if you're under my roof, I take care of you. End of story."
Ella looked away, a faint blush creeping across her cheeks. "Thank you," she mumbled.
"Don't mention it," he said, standing. "Now get some rest. I'll be back to check on you later."
Hours passed in a blur of restless sleep and fevered dreams. Ella was vaguely aware of Nicholas's presence, bringing her water, adjusting her blankets, and even pressing a cool cloth to her forehead at one point. His steady care was both comforting and unnerving, leaving her with a strange mix of gratitude and embarrassment.
By the time the afternoon sun had begun to fade, Ella felt slightly more coherent, though still weak. She managed to sit up, leaning against the headboard as she sipped the water Nicholas had left on the nightstand.
The door creaked open, and Nicholas stepped inside, his dark eyes immediately locking onto hers. He was dressed casually in a fitted sweater and dark jeans, the effortless look somehow making him even more frustratingly attractive.
"Look who's finally awake," he said, a playful grin tugging at his lips. "Feeling better?"
"A little," she admitted, setting the glass down.
"Good." Nicholas walked over and placed a tray on the bed beside her. "I brought you some soup. You need to eat something."
Ella glanced at the tray, her stomach growling faintly at the sight of the steaming bowl of soup and a slice of bread. "You didn't have to—"
"Let me guess," Nicholas interrupted, raising an eyebrow. "You don't want to be a burden?"
She sighed, a small smile tugging at her lips despite herself. "Something like that."
"Well, too bad," he said, sitting on the edge of the bed again. "Eat."
Ella picked up the spoon, taking a small sip of the soup. It was delicious, the warm broth soothing her sore throat. She couldn't help but let out a soft sigh of relief, and Nicholas chuckled.
"See? Not so bad, right?"
"It's good," she admitted, glancing at him. "Thank you."
Nicholas leaned back, his hands braced on the bed. "You know, you're much cuter when you're not arguing with me."
Ella nearly choked on her soup, her cheeks flushing. "I'm not cute."
He smirked, clearly enjoying her reaction. "You are. Especially when you're blushing like that."
She glared at him, though the effect was ruined by the faint smile tugging at her lips. "You're impossible."
"And yet," Nicholas said, leaning closer, "you're still here."
Ella's breath hitched as the space between them seemed to shrink. For a moment, she thought he might kiss her, and her heart pounded in anticipation. But then Nicholas pulled back, his grin widening.
"Finish your soup," he said, standing. "I'll be back later."