Chapter twelve...
839 Words
The sun had just begun to pour into the penthouse windows when Seojin, already dressed in a crisp black shirt and slacks, set the breakfast table in silence. A tray sat neatly arranged—scrambled eggs, toast, and a small bowl of sliced fruits. He moved efficiently, pouring orange juice into a glass and placing a warm cup of tea beside it. He glanced at the clock.
Paloma was still asleep.
She had barely stirred all morning. Normally, she’d be up making noise, dancing through the kitchen, or teasing him while stealing food off his plate. But today, there was only quiet.
His brows furrowed in concern.
He made his way to his bedroom where she still lay, tangled in the sheets, her soft breathing the only sound. Seojin stepped closer, leaning over her. He reached out and brushed her cheek, and the moment his hand touched her skin, he stiffened.
She was burning up.
“Paloma,” he whispered, his voice tight. He gently shook her shoulder.
She squirmed, a soft sound escaping her lips as her body reacted to the heat. Her brows furrowed in discomfort and her eyes fluttered open.
“Seojin…” she croaked, voice hoarse.
“You have a fever,” he said, kneeling beside the bed. “You caught a cold.”
“I feel… weak,” she murmured. “My nose… it won’t stop.”
He sighed deeply. There was no way he could leave her like this.
Without a second thought, he grabbed his phone and dialed the university board. “This is Dr. Park. I won’t be coming in today—I have a situation that needs my immediate attention. Please arrange for a substitute lecturer.” He hung up before they could ask questions.
She tried to sit up but fell back with a groan.
“You need a shower,” Seojin said gently, “but you can’t stand on your own.”
She blinked at him groggily. “Then what am I supposed to do?”
He hesitated for half a second, then let out a quiet breath. “I’ll help you.”
Her eyes widened slightly. “You’ll…?”
“I’m your doctor,” he reminded her. “Right now, that’s all I am.”
She gave him a tired, wary look but nodded faintly. “Okay…”
Seojin gathered her carefully in his arms and carried her to the bathroom. Steam rose from the tub he had quickly filled with warm water. He made sure the room was cozy and not too hot, testing the water with his hand before setting her down gently beside the bathtub.
He turned around for a moment, giving her some privacy to remove the shirt. She was slow, clumsy with her movements, and when she struggled, he helped her without a word, trying not to focus on the soft curve of her back or the way her hair clung to her damp forehead.
Once she was in the water, she let out a soft sigh. Her head leaned back against the edge of the tub, eyes fluttering shut.
Seojin rolled his sleeves up to his elbows and knelt beside her. He picked up a soft sponge and began to gently run it along her arms, careful and attentive. His hands were practiced—professional—but the silence between them pulsed with something unspoken.
When he moved to wash her back, her breath hitched, and a soft moan escaped her lips.
Seojin froze. A jolt ran through him, and his eyes darkened.
He took a deep breath, forcing his gaze downward.
“I’ll be more gentle,” he murmured.
Paloma didn’t respond, only leaning further into his touch as though she trusted him completely—even in her vulnerability.
His hands moved slowly across her skin, rinsing away the feverish sweat, careful not to linger anywhere too long. His knuckles brushed against her thighs, and he immediately pulled back, the heat crawling up his neck.
She opened one eye, the tiniest smile playing at her lips. “You’re being too careful…”
“You’re sick,” he said tightly. “Don’t tempt me, Paloma.”
She giggled softly, but it faded into a cough, and she leaned forward tiredly.
Seojin wrapped her in a towel and held her close, drying her gently, almost reverently. Once she was fully dry, he dressed her in warm pajamas, carried her back to the couch, and sat down with her in his lap.
Seojin carried her to his room once again and laid her under the covers. He placed the thermometer under her arm and kissed her temple. “You need rest,” he murmured. “I’ll be here.”
Paloma nodded drowsily, already drifting off.
By the next morning, sunlight warmed her face as she stirred awake. Her throat didn’t hurt as much, and her nose had stopped running. She blinked against the light and smiled faintly, realizing she was still tucked into Seojin’s bed.
She felt better.
And more loved than ever.
- Writer
