By the time Theodore finished his shower,
his condition hadn't improved one bit.
His vision was slightly blurred, and an unbearable heat simmered beneath his skin, intensifying with each passing second.
He kept swallowing-dry, tight gulps-
and couldn't stop thinking about Sigourney.
Her eyes. Her smile. That unwavering confidence.
And above all, the soft tenderness in her gestures today, the warmth in her expressions.
Of course, Theodore knew something was wrong.
Very wrong.
So he bit his lower lip, forcing himself to stay composed as he stepped out of the bathroom.
"Are you really okay, Theodore? Should I call your private doctor?"
Sigourney looked up at him, clearly confused.
From her point of view, something was definitely off.
Theodore's face was flushed an alarming shade
