FEVERED HEARTS
654 Words
Kiara didn’t feel well.
Her head throbbed. Her throat was sore. Her entire body ached like she had been run over by emotions, lies… and now, maybe the flu.
But she didn’t tell Aiden.
He was already cold and distant. The last thing she wanted was to seem weak.
So she smiled through it. Cooked breakfast, stayed in her room, drank warm tea.
Until one evening, her legs gave out halfway down the stairs.
---
Aiden caught her just in time.
“What the hell—Kiara!”
His voice wasn’t cold this time. It was sharp. Worried.
She tried to speak, but her lips were dry and her words came out like air. “I—I’m fine…”
“No, you’re not,” he snapped. “You’re burning up.”
Without another word, he lifted her into his arms. Kiara tried to protest, but the world spun too fast. Her head fell against his chest.
It was the first time she let him hold her like this.
And even in her feverish haze… it felt safe.
---
He carried her into the guest room. Laid her down gently. Then, for the first time since their contract began, Aiden Laurent panicked.
He called his private doctor. Barked orders at the house staff. Brought wet towels and medicine himself. Sat by her side, hour after hour.
She drifted in and out of sleep. In one moment, she whispered, “Why… are you here?”
He looked at her flushed face. “Because you’re my wife.”
“But… it’s fake…”
Aiden paused.
“Yes,” he said quietly. “But you’re still… under my care.”
---
By morning, her fever broke.
When Kiara opened her eyes, Aiden was sitting beside her, tie loosened, hair messy, a book in his lap.
“You stayed?” she asked, voice raspy.
He glanced at her. “Don’t make a big deal out of it.”
She gave a weak smile. “Too late.”
Aiden stood up, clearing his throat. “You need rest. And fluids. I’ll have breakfast brought up.”
As he turned to leave, she called softly, “Aiden?”
He stopped.
“Thank you.”
He didn’t answer. But his shoulders tensed slightly — like her words had hit a place he didn’t want touched.
---
Later that day, Elise arrived with fresh clothes and Kiara’s phone.
“You’ve got over twenty messages,” she said. “Your family’s worried.”
Kiara sat up. “Wait—what?”
She opened her phone.
> “Kiara, are you okay? Your uncle said you looked pale last night.”
“Sweetheart, are you eating enough? Don’t stress too much in your marriage.”
“We can come visit if you want.”
She bit her lip. The lies were growing heavier by the day.
And now... they were layered with something else:
Guilt.
Because deep down, she knew something was changing.
This wasn’t just pretending anymore.
Not for her.
And maybe... not for him either.
---
That evening, Aiden knocked on her door — softly this time.
She expected cold instructions. Maybe another set of rules.
But instead, he held something behind his back.
“What’s that?” she asked.
He revealed a small paper bag. “Chicken porridge. My driver bought it from your favorite stall.”
Kiara blinked. “How did you know—?”
“You talk in your sleep,” he said flatly.
She burst out laughing. “That’s creepy.”
He handed her the bag. “Just eat it.”
She stared at him for a second. “You’re being... nice.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Right. Mr. Emotionless suddenly cares about porridge.”
He walked away before she could tease more.
But she smiled for the first time in days.
And that night, she didn’t feel so alone.
---
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