Elara
By midmorning, I already knew something was wrong.
It started as a dull pressure behind my eyes, then came the chill that didn’t match the office temperature, followed by a heaviness in my limbs that made even typing feel like effort.
Still, I stayed.
Because leaving wasn’t an option when my desk already had three pending reports and a supervisor who treated sick leave like a personal offense.
By the time the afternoon came, my head was throbbing.
My skin felt too warm, but the air-conditioning made me shiver.
Every step toward the exit felt like I was walking slightly out of sync with my own body.
On the way home, I stopped at a pharmacy near the corner of my street.
I remember the pharmacist asking me questions, and I answered them without really hearing myself.
I only knew I was holding medicine by the time I left.
At home, the first thing I noticed was Damian’s jacket.
It had finally dried.
Yes, it was still here.
Yesterday, after all the rushing and apologizing, I’d thought the whole thing would finally be over.
Instead, Damian had taken one look at the faint water stains that hadn’t completely disappeared and insisted I keep it a little longer.
Honestly, at this point, I was starting to think I could turn absolutely anything into a disaster if I tried hard enough.
I stood there for a moment staring at it, as if it had suddenly become something more significant than a borrowed piece of clothing.
I should have sent it back immediately.
So I pulled out my phone and texted him.
You can come pick up your jacket anytime.
It’s dry now.
I hesitated, then added nothing else before pressing send.
No reply came right away and my body didn’t wait for one.
The moment I sat down on the edge of my bed, exhaustion sank into me all at once, like my system had been holding itself together purely out of obligation and had finally decided to stop.
“I’ll just rest for a minute,” I told myself.
That minute turned into sleep before I even finished the thought.
**
The ringing woke me up.
At first, I didn’t understand what I was hearing.
My phone vibrated somewhere near my pillow, pulling me out of a heavy, disoriented fog.
I reached for it blindly.
“Hello?” My voice came out rougher than I expected.
There was a pause on the other end.
Then Damian spoke.
“You sound terrible.”
I frowned slightly, still trying to focus.
“That’s a very warm greeting.”
”I’m being accurate,” he replied.
His tone shifted almost immediately, becoming sharper in a way that suggested attention.
“Are you sick?”
”I’m just tired,” I said automatically.
“Where are you?”
”At home.”
Another pause, shorter this time.
“Send me your apartment number.”
That pulled me more awake.
“Why?”
”Elara,” he said, my name landing with more weight than usual, “just send it.”
Something in his voice made it difficult to argue, even though I wanted to.
I read out my address slowly, and he repeated it once under his breath as if confirming it in his memory.
“I’m coming,” he said.
“You don’t have to—”
The call ended before I could finish.
I stared at the phone for a moment, then let my arm fall back onto the bed.
“What are you doing,” I muttered to no one.
**
The next time I woke up, it wasn’t my phone.
It was the sound of knocking.
Not loud, not aggressive, but steady enough to cut through the haze in my head.
I forced myself up.
My head spun slightly as I reached the door.
When I opened it, Damian was already there.
He looked like he had come straight from somewhere else — hair slightly disheveled from the wind.
His eyes moved over me in a single sweep, and whatever he saw clearly wasn’t good enough for him.
“You’re burning up,” he said immediately.
“I’m fine,” I insisted again, though even I didn’t believe it anymore.
“You’re not,” he replied.
Then, after a beat, “Have you eaten anything today?”
”I had… something.”
”That’s not an answer.”
I frowned at him.
“Why are you here?”
”You called me,” he said.
“I sent you a message,” I corrected.
“And then you stopped responding.”
I opened my mouth, but nothing came out that sounded convincing.
His gaze shifted past me into the apartment.
“How long have you been like this?”
”I don’t know,” I admitted quietly.
“Since earlier today.”
Damian exhaled slowly, as if trying to decide something.
“Where’s your thermometer?”
”I don’t have one.”
That earned me a look I couldn’t quite interpret.
Then he stepped inside without asking permission.
“I’ll take you to the hospital,” he said.
“I don’t need a hospital.”
”You do,” he replied calmly.
“And I’m not arguing with you while you’re running a fever.”
I tried to protest again, but my body betrayed me by swaying slightly where I stood.
His hand moved instantly, steadying my arm.
“Okay,” I muttered under my breath.
“Fine.”
**
The drive was quiet.
I sat in the passenger seat, half-wrapped in my own fatigue, while Damian kept glancing at me every few seconds like he expected me to collapse mid-breath.
“You should call your boyfriend,” he said eventually.
That pulled my attention slightly.
“What?”
”Where is he and why he isn’t taking care of you?” he asked.
“You’re burning with fever.”
I didn’t answer immediately.
The silence stretched between us, filled only by the sound of the engine.
“I can take care of myself,” I said finally.
“Clearly,” he replied, but there was something quieter underneath it.
Something less certain than his words.
We arrived at the hospital shortly after.
I recognized the place only vaguely at first, until I saw the sign properly.
Damian didn’t hesitate—he guided me inside like he already knew exactly where everything was.
The nurses greeted him with familiarity.
He got me checked in quickly, spoke to staff in short, efficient sentences, and handled everything with an ease that made me feel strangely… small in comparison.
Still, he stayed beside me.
Even when I told him, “You don’t have to stay here.
I’ll be fine.”
He looked at me then, something steady in his expression.
“I know you’ll be fine,” he said.
“That’s not the point.”
I didn’t know how to respond to that.
Later, when I was settled into a bed and the medication had started to take effect, I expected him to leave.
It would have made sense.
He had already done more than enough.
Instead, he pulled up a chair beside me.
“You’re really staying?” I asked quietly.
He nodded once and leaned back slightly, like that settled it.
Seeing him watching me close, I let myself stop fighting the exhaustion completely.
Because somehow, even in a place like this, I didn’t feel alone.