Jamie had a habit of waking up in the middle of the night.

When she stepped into the dimly lit living room, the faint silhouette of someone startled her. She froze for a moment before realizing it was Ben. "Ben, why are you sitting here instead of sleeping?" Ben let out a low grunt, his voice so faint she thought she had imagined it.

As Jamie approached, the sheen of sweat on his forehead and his unusually pale face came into view.

"Are you feeling unwell?" she asked, her tone laced with concern.

"Could you get me some antacid?" Ben replied, his voice carrying a subtle weakness that was uncharacteristic for him.

It clicked. Ben had always struggled with stomach issues. His workaholic lifestyle often made it worse.

Her worry spiked. She paced the living room, trying to recall where she might have stored some medicine. "Wait here. I think I have some in my room."

She hurried back, returning moments later with the medication and a cup of warm water. Ben took the medicine, his tightly furrowed brows easing slightly as he drank.

"Feeling better?" Jamie asked anxiously.

a faint nod, barely

her own

helps. Try holding this against your stomach," she suggested, holding it out

water bottle, visibly hesitant. "You want

hands.

the early hours

she woke, she found herself covered

first

burning

could you be this sick and not say anything?" Jamie muttered, pulling her hand away from his forehead. His temperature shocked her, and

feeling worse and heartbroken seeing

coherently. There was no point in scolding

off his forehead with a cool, damp cloth and coaxed him into taking

opened his eyes, they were clouded with confusion.

he murmured, his voice

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