Hold My Tear, I’m Getting My Wife Back!

Chapter 277

Leanne felt utterly drained, as if every ounce of energy had been sapped from her body. Even the effort to tell him not to get too close, in case he caught whatever she had, came out as a weak, pained moan.

Curtis, seemingly oblivious or perhaps choosing to ignore her feeble protests, only held her closer. His hand gently stroked her back, his voice low and soothing as he comforted her.

Illness has a way of making one feel vulnerable, and Leanne wasn’t sure if it was Curtis’ comforting words or the simple act of being held that helped ease her discomfort.

Her voice was barely a whisper when Curtis asked, “Where does it hurt?”

“My head… it’s throbbing,” Leanne managed to say between gasps.

Curtis’ fingers then carefully worked their way through her damp hair, massaging her scalp with a practiced ease that was neither too gentle nor too forceful, just perfect.

Gradually, Leanne quieted down, the furrow in her brow smoothing out as she found solace in his embrace, like a sheltered harbor amidst a stormy sea. She, the tempest-tossed vessel, had no choice but to seek refuge.

When she awoke the next morning, her headache had subsided slightly, though her body felt heavy, and her fever persisted, her throat even more sore than before.

The memory of last night’s embrace lingered as she glanced at the empty side of the bed

Had he left? Or was it all just a dream?

Just then, the door opened, and Curtis entered under her fixed gaze, asking if she wa for some breakfast.

to be swept up in the illusion that they

Curtis’ features, a

smile.

slippers at the bedside, Curtis scooped them up and slipped them onto her

want me to carry

weather, not incapacitated,” Leanne retorted, making her way to the

returned, breakfast

noodle soup, the broth clear and the

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fishiness, smooth to the

a soft scrambled egg, lightly sautéed spinach, zucchini stew, with diced apples and kiwi

sweetness.

throat hurt so much, it felt like she was swallowing shards of glass, so she hardly ate

anything.

he’d sorted her medication and would be back from the office in about two hours.

stirred the soup idly, suggesting

all cuddles last night, and now you’re turning cold? Do we only exist to each other in

the day wrapped in blankets, feeling as if termites had hollowed out her bones, leaving them achy