“Baby!” Gale stormed into the house. The smell of his struggle hit my nose first and I gagged again.
As he approached, I pushed him away. “It's probably just a stomachache,” I said nonchalantly, giving him a reason not to get closer. But he took it seriously.
His brows furrowed with concern and without hesitation, he scooped me into his arms and carried me to the bedroom.
Minutes later, he returned with honey water and stomach medicine, his hands gentle as he helped me sit up.
“What would you do if I’m not around? You can’t even take care of yourself,” he muttered, sounding more like a scolding than a statement, but I could hear the pain in his voice.
I said nothing, feigning exhaustion.
Gale spent hours massaging my stomach, his gaze never leaving my face. His dedication was unwavering, but I couldn’t shake the memory of him with Flossie.
Sleep enveloped me and I barely managed to keep my eyes open.
The faint chime of a notification broke the silence.
Gale’s hand immediately dropped away and before I could react, he snatched his phone from the bedside table and opened the message.