Trunks woke up with a splitting headache, his temples throbbing as the pale London light filtered through the curtains.
“Hey… how are you feeling?” Angelique asked softly from the edge of the bed.
“Bad,” he groaned, pressing his hand to his forehead. “My head hurts so much.”
“I’m sorry, babe. You fell asleep so fast last night—we didn’t even get to enjoy our evening together.”
He squinted at the clock. “What time is it?”
“Almost midday,” she replied.
“Ugh… I don’t think we’re going anywhere today. I feel terrible.”
“Then rest,” Angelique said gently. “I’ll make you some tea.”
A few minutes later, she returned with a steaming cup. “Here,” she murmured, handing it to him.
As he took a careful sip, Angelique hesitated for a moment. Then, with the calm tone of someone trying to sound
