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“Samira, if I don’t make it…”
“Jack, stop it.”
“No, I have to say this. If I don’t make it you have to know how much I love you.”
Samira sighed. The thermometer in his mouth beeped. 100.3°F. Barely a fever.
He moaned again. A deep, pitiful sound.
“I do know this. You tell me every day.”
“But I wanna say it one last time before I finally succumb to my illness.” He said as a cough worked up its way out his chest. It did sound dreadful.
“Your illness? Oh my God, Jack, you have a cold. A common cold. Sit up and eat your chicken soup.”
“I’m gonna die and you are going to regret being so mean to me.”
“You are not going to die from this, you already tested negative for Covid and Flu, you barely have a fever. If anything, I’m going to kill you for being such a drama queen. Did I complain like this last month?”
“No… but this feels worse than what you had.”
“What I had was a severe case of morning sickness. Which is directly your fault. I’m going to reheat your soup; you go take a shower. It will help.”
She could hear more coughs and groans as he went into the bathroom to do as she said. She wanted to be annoyed but truly it was rare that Jack let her take care of him. And he had been ever so kind to her, so generous and protective ever since they’d found out she was pregnant. It had not been planned but he had immediately made her feel as though it had been, like it was silly to think she could not take this head on.
So yeah, she was going to take care of her baby as practice for when their baby arrived.