Chapter 4

I lowered my eyes, too guilty to look at him.

"I'm sorry for dragging you into this."

He said, "It's okay. I volunteered."

His tone was calm, showing no signs of blame or unhappiness.

The calmer he was, the worse I felt. I almost wished he would scold me a little.

How could someone be so kind?

I called the front desk to ask if there were any available rooms, but there were none.

Every day, new arrivals were brought in for quarantine.

I feel powerless.

The only thing I could do now was to keep my distance from Brandon as much as possible.

I thought about sleeping in the living room while Brandon took the bedroom, trying to avoid opening doors as much as I could.

He disagreed, saying, "You're running a fever, and your immunity is low. Sleeping in the living room will just make it worse."

The hotel sent over some fever-reducing medicine, but it was just "the flu," and I had to rely on the medication to recover.

I patted my chest and assured him, "I've always had strong immunity. I don't need medicine for a fever; a good sleep will do. Don't worry!"

His eyes were filled with doubt, as if asking, “Then why are you sick now?”

I felt resentful. I had squeezed onto subways and eaten street food while studying abroad for over two years without a hitch, and I even had a nucleic acid test before entering the country. Who could have predicted this?

"Anyway, I'm sleeping on the couch. We need to keep our distance."

After saying that, I held my breath and quickly ran into the bedroom to pull out my suitcase.

I put on my down jacket, wrapped it tightly around me, and flopped down on the couch.

"Don't even think about it; the couch is mine!"

Brandon silently watched my series of actions and sighed.

He stood up, walked out of the bedroom, and approached me.

He drew closer, and I shouted at him, "Don't come over! I'm a giant virus factory right now!"

He ignored me and stood beside the couch, looking down at me.

I blinked.

"You sleep in the bedroom."

Before I could react, he bent down, reached out.

Before I could react, he effortlessly scooped me up, carrying me toward the bedroom.

……

I was like, what the hell?

If it weren't for the heavy down jacket I was wearing and the fact that we both had on N95 masks, this could have been a pretty romantic scene.

I wasn't sure if it was the fever or something else, but my heart was racing.

He placed me on the bed, and just as I was about to sit up, he said, "Do you want me to carry you again?"

I felt my face flush and shook my head vigorously.

"You can close the door."

"Okay."

His face gradually disappeared behind the door. I whispered, "Thank you."

His hand paused for a moment on the door, "You're welcome."

……

In the middle of the night, I started burning up with a fever, my whole body ached, making it impossible to sleep.

I took a dose of painkiller, which only helped a little, and the fever continued.

It was nothing like the easy recovery people talked about online; I felt miserable, as if I were on the brink of death.

I also started coughing. Thinking about Brandon sleeping outside, I covered my mouth, trying my best to stifle the sounds.

I ran out of water on the bedside table, but I didn't dare to go out to refill it.

Not long after, Brandon knocked on the door.

"Do you need water?"

As soon as I opened my mouth, I started coughing, my throat hoarse: "...Yes."

He opened the door and came in, taking my water bottle.

The hotel provided bottled water, but without a water dispenser, I had to use a manual pump, making it a hassle every time I needed water.

I turned over to check my phone; it was 3 AM.

Brandon was boiling water for me.

"I ordered throat lozenges; the hotel should be able to deliver them tomorrow. Hang in there for now."