Mark gently squeezed my wrist with a voice that was softer than I heard before he asked, "Then … do we have any money to buy you some medicine? I'll go and buy fever-reducing medicine for you."
I pulled out the last of my emergency cash from my wallet and handed it to him.
Mark took it without a word and headed out the door. Halfway to the door, he suddenly stopped, turned around and rushed back to hug me tightly. “Just hold on a little longer. We can’t give up now. Things will get better, I promise!”
“Okay.” Maybe it was because I was sick, I became a bit fragile and my eyes started to sting with tears.
Mark had never taken any initiative to take care of anyone before.
During those two days, I was bedridden with a fever, he clumsily made a porridge and fed me some medicine. This act of his made me have an illusion that I meant something to him.
It felt so real that I even had a bit of hope that I should not have.
After I recovered, I dragged my weak body to the kitchen and prepared Mark's favorite foods.
I planned to have a serious conversation with him about our future.
However, before I could say a word, Mark's phone chimed with an incoming message.