Love Burned, She Rose Unscathed

Roseanne clearly had just woken up, dressed in a cozy set of pajamas adorned with cartoon bears, her eyes still a bit red from sleep.

She yawned, a slow, sluggish yawn, her reactions noticeably slower than usual.

"Did I wake you?" The old house was poorly insulated, and often, even with doors closed, one could hear footsteps in the hallway. Owen thought he might have been the cause of her disturbed sleep. Rubbing her eyes, Roseanne shook her head. "I was about to get up anyway, it's already half-past six."

She had plans to go shopping with Nola in the afternoon, so she needed to get up early to work on her thesis and sift through research material.

Seeing her still groggy, Owen's voice softened. "It's still early; you could catch some more sleep if you want."

Before he could finish, he was met with Roseanne's scrutinizing gaze, making him pause. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Do you have a cold?" she asked.

Uh-oh! Owen managed a smile. "You noticed?"

"Your voice sounds a bit hoarse. Do you have a fever?"

He touched his forehead, trying to check if he had a fever. "I don't know... can't really tell. Probably not," he said.

Roseanne couldn't help but be exasperated. "Mr. Reynolds, 'probably not'? Is that something a meticulous researcher should say?"

chuckled. "Well, I don't have a thermometer

do. Go back inside, and I'll

"Alright."

drawer and sanitizing it thoroughly, Roseanne made her way to

couch, a picture of discomfort, his shoes forgotten in his malaise - a stark contrast to his usual

out

prompting her concern

opened

Their gazes locked.

eyelashes tremble

give this a try. I called you a couple of times; you

that he had a high

to see a

suggestion. "Some

you have any

Owen admitted, "No."

I've got

wash the cup and found

...

felt disheartened