The first thing I noticed was the headache.
Dull. Persistent. Like someone was drumming on the inside of my skull with a spoon.
The second thing was the scent.
Warm. Clean. Familiar in a way that made no sense at all.
I cracked my eyes open. Light stabbed through the gap in the curtains and straight into my brain. I groaned and immediately regretted being conscious.
"Look who's finally decided to join the land of the living," a voice chirped nearby.
I squinted toward the sound. A girl. Not her. Not Daphne.
Wait — who the hell…?
"Who…?" My voice came out rough, like I'd swallowed sandpaper and chased it with gravel.
She grinned, leaning against the wall like she owned the place. Dark hair up in a messy clip, oversized hoodie hanging off one shoulder. "Kalpo," she announced cheerfully. "You're welcome."
I blinked. "Welcome…?"
"For saving your sorry ass."
Before I could wrap my brain around that, another voice cut in.
"Oh yeah, you owe both of us now."
Ayaan. Of course. Smug as ever, perched on the arm of a chair like the dramatic idiot he was, smirking like he'd won something.
"You—" I croaked, sitting up way too fast. The room tilted and I nearly face-planted back onto the pillows. Kalpo was instantly at my side, shoving me back down like I weighed nothing.
"Easy, fever boy. You're not about to die, but you're not invincible either."
I scowled. "What the hell happened?"
Kalpo and Ayaan shared a look — the kind of look that made my stomach sink.
"You fainted," Ayaan said, very helpfully. "Like, full-on swooned. It was adorable."
"I did not swoon."
"Oh, you did," Kalpo confirmed, smirking. "Right into your professor's arms, too."
That got my attention.
"What?"
My voice cracked like a damn teenager's. Smooth.
"Yeah," Ayaan grinned. "Daphne carried you outta there like some damsel in distress. Bridal style. I almost took a picture."
I wanted to sink into the mattress and disappear.
She carried me?
"I—"
Words failed. My head spun, not just from fever but from the image they were painting.
"She took care of you too," Kalpo added, softer this time. "Stayed up all night. Cooked. Ran back and forth with cold towels like it was her actual job."
I swallowed hard. My throat felt tight for reasons that had nothing to do with being sick.
"Where is she?" I asked before I could stop myself.
Ayaan's smirk widened.
"Oh, so you can admit you care."
I flipped him off.
Kalpo laughed. "She left a while ago. Had to deal with some work stuff. But she left food. And instructions. And a threat or two if you got up before you should."
That weird warmth bloomed in my chest again, and I hated how much I didn't hate it.
"Food sounds good," I muttered.
Kalpo ruffled my hair like I was twelve. "There's the spirit. Come on, fever boy. Let's get you sitting up without dying."
Ayaan tossed a pillow at my head. "Glad you're not dead, loser."
I smirked. "Disappointed?"
"Always."
They bickered the whole way to the kitchen while I shuffled after them, still dizzy but feeling more alive than I had in days. The kitchen smelled good too — something warm and spicy lingering in the air. My stomach grumbled, traitorous and loud.
And through it all, I couldn't stop thinking about the hand in my hair. The way the towel had felt cool against my skin. The scent in that room.
Her.
Even gone, she lingered.
And I didn't know what the hell to do with that.