Chapter 24
The kitchen smelled of freshly baked bread. I peeked over and saw Sloane at the stove, focused and graceful as always. A small smile tugged at my lips, though my eyelids still begged for a few more moments of sleep.
Taking heavy steps, I slipped behind her, wrapping my arms around her waist. "Sloey..." I mumbled, burying my face into her shoulder.
Sloane paused, resting a hand on mine around her abdomen. "Ro, if you want more sleep, go do it in bed, not here," she teased, her voice warm but amused.
I hummed softly, inhaling her sweet, comforting scent. "You smell so good," I whispered, pressing a soft kiss to the side of her neck before straightening, letting her go.
"You really..." she clicked her tongue, returning her focus to the toast in the pan.
"Is that... French toast?" I asked, blinking in mild surprise.
Sloane nodded, placing another slice on the pan while setting aside three golden pieces she'd already made. "Uh-huh. Pumpkin French toast."
"Oh, that sounds amazing," I said, turning to the coffee machine. "Want your usual coffee, Sloey?"
"Sure," she replied, her eyes still on the pan.
I smiled, grinding the coffee beans, tamping them neatly into the portafilter, and pressing a double shot espresso into a waiting teacup.
Moving to the fridge, I grabbed the oat milk and returned to steam it, letting the hum of the machine fill the kitchen as I carefully poured the frothy milk into the cup, finishing with a delicate swan design.
By the time I set the coffee down, Sloane was already heading toward the dining room, balancing two plates with effortless grace.
I shrugged and carried my tea to the table, placing it in my usual spot while setting her flat white with oat milk in front of her seat.
Sloane smiled, glancing first at me, then at the coffee. "Thank you, sweetie. Now, why don't you sit, and let's enjoy breakfast together?" she said, gesturing toward the chair across from her.
I nodded and walked to the seat across from hers, a smile lingering on my lips as I took a sip of the coffee I'd made.
She hummed approvingly, nodding. "Still tastes the same," she said, placing the cup down and looking at me.
"I must be weird, but it's the first time in a long while I've tasted a flat white like this again. "
My brow lifted as I took a sip of my tea. "What do you mean? Don't most cafés serve flat whites?"
She shook her head, smiling. "They do, but it's not quite the same as when you make it. I only like flat white when you're the one who makes it."
I pressed my lips into a thin line, trying to hide my grin, but my face betrayed me with a flush. "Smart mouth," I teased.
A soft laugh escaped her as she sliced her toast. "No, seriously... I've missed the flat whites you used to make me." She glanced at her cup with a faint smile. "There were times I even stopped drinking coffee because I'd gotten so used to you making it for me."
I swallowed hard, staring at her. "Don't worry. I can make your usual coffee anytime you want," I reassured her, my tone gentle.
"Great, then we have a deal," she said with a laugh, taking a bite of her toast.
Just then, her phone rang. She set her utensils down, picked it up, and gestured for me to continue eating as she walked away to answer the call.
I heaved a soft sigh, shrugging, and took a bite of my toast, though my eyes stayed locked on her back. I couldn't help but smile. Our relationship wasn't perfect, but it had found a smooth rhythm—no endless arguments like in those first chaotic months of marriage.
When she returned, she slid back into her seat, her smile warm. "That was Millie. We're planning for the company's founding anniversary," she explained, placing her phone on the table. "I want you to come with me, okay? I want you there by my side."
I nodded, smiling at her. "Of course, my love." But as I reached for another bite of toast, a sharp pain stabbed my ribs. I dropped my cutlery and scrambled to my feet.
Sloane's eyes widened. "Ro, are you—?" she began, but I didn't answer. I pressed my hand to the table, breathing through another wave of agony.
Swallowing hard, I forced myself toward the master bedroom, each step a battle against the searing pain.
"Ro!" Sloane's voice followed me, but I didn't dare look back. I slipped into the bathroom and locked the door.
Clutching my ribs, I turned on the faucet, letting the sound of rushing water mask my shallow groans. "It hurts..." I whispered, my teeth clenched, my body trembling. I leaned over the sink, coughing harshly, my throat scraping painfully.
When I spat, blood stained the white marble. "Shit!" I hissed as a new pang shot through my bones, knocking the breath out of me.
"Aurora!" A sharp knock at the door made me freeze. "Are you alright?!" Sloane shouted, pounding as if she could break the door down.
I couldn't respond. Pain twisted through me like a vise. I stumbled, clutching my ribs, coughing again. More blood speckled the sink. "No, no, no..." I whispered, scooping water to rinse my mouth.
"I'm opening the door!" Sloane's voice came again, panicked.
I pressed myself against the door, dropping to the floor, hugging my knees, unwilling to let her push it open. My body went rigid as another wave of agony tore through me. Sweat ran down my temples; my chest heaved.
"Make it stop... please..." I whispered, voice trembling, burying my face in my knees. "Make it stop..." My tears mingled with the sweat, my sobs stifled against my arms.
Sloane was still banging on the door, calling my name. I didn't know how long I had been in the bathroom, letting the water run into the sink, or how long she had been pleading with me to open it.
Panting, my body trembling as the pain finally ebbed, I pushed myself to stand, trying to regain some composure. I reached to turn off the faucet, and just as I turned toward the door, it swung open.
Sloane's face appeared, eyes wide with worry. "Ro," she whispered, rushing forward. She cupped my cheeks in her hands, her gaze intense. "Are you alright? You look so pale... so clammy. Did I... did I do something wrong with your toast? Is it your stomach?"
I couldn't answer—none of it mattered. My throat tightened, and I swallowed hard, burying my face in her shoulder. My hands fell limply at my sides. "Sorry... I didn't mean to make you worry," I murmured.
She pulled back slightly, cupping my face again, her eyes shimmering. "I don't know what's happening, but... do you want me to take you to the ER?" she asked softly, brushing the sweat from my temple.
A faint smile tugged at my lips, though my body felt weak. "I'm... I'm fine," I whispered, holding her hands against my face. "I'm sorry..." I blinked rapidly, trying to focus.
The room spun. Sloane's voice echoed in my ears, distant and muffled. I couldn't make out her words. All I could do was cling to her once more, burying my face in her shoulder... and then the world went black.
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Something warm pressed against me, making me frown. When I blinked my eyes open, adjusting to the light, I saw Sloane sitting beside me, her face etched with worry. My throat tightened as I took in my surroundings.
"What... happened?" I croaked, my voice hoarse.
Sloane bit her lip before letting out a soft sigh. She leaned forward, resting her forehead against mine and cupping my cheeks. "Why didn't you tell me anything about this, Ro?" she murmured, her voice breaking.
My body stiffened, heart pounding. Tell her...? I blinked, clearing my throat. "T-tell you what?"
"Why didn't you tell me you had a fever?" she asked gently, her thumbs brushing over my cheeks.
I exhaled, wrapping my arms loosely around her, rubbing her back. "I... I just didn't want you to worry. Besides... don't you have an important meeting today?"
She shook her head, still pressing her forehead to mine. "I told Millie to reschedule everything. I can't leave you like this, Ro. You've had a high fever for hours, and you've been mumbling..." Her eyes glistened as she held me close. "You had me worried sick."
"I'm sorry," I whispered.
Humming softly, she pulled back just enough to look at me. "You don't need to apologize for being sick. I'm your wife—it's my job to check on you first," she said, giving me a small, reassuring smile. "Now... how are you feeling?"
I groaned, sitting up slowly on the mattress. She gently helped me prop a pillow behind my back. "I feel... so lightheaded. Like my body isn't even mine," I admitted, chuckling weakly as I closed my eyes.
Sloane reached out, resting her hand on my forehead. "Your temperature's lower than before," she said, standing and smiling. "Let me just get you some soup."
"Sol, I'm fine," I groaned, exhaling heavily.
She squinted at me, shaking her head. "You love saying that, don't you? But look at you—you're pale as a ghost, about to faint. Is that what fine looks like?" Her hands went to her hips, glaring at me half-playfully, half-worried.
I pressed my lips into a thin line and hugged the pillow to my chest, burying my cheek in it. She sighed, kneeling on one knee beside me, and leaned down to kiss my forehead. "Wait here, okay? I'll bring you the soup."
As Sloane headed out of the bedroom, I reached for my phone.
My hands trembled slightly as I unlocked it and opened my email app.
I checked the familiar thread I'd been keeping close, typed out a message, and sent it to the recipient.
Closing it, I glanced at the company's email to see if anything required my attention.
I glanced up as the door opened, revealing Sloane with a housekeeper beside her carrying a tray. Sighing, Sloane turned to the housekeeper, took the tray, and subtly nodded. The housekeeper bowed and excused herself, leaving the two of us alone.
"Ro," Sloane clicked her tongue. "Can you focus on yourself before checking your work?" She placed the wooden tray on the bed. "Here, have some soup I made."
She scooped up a spoonful, blew on it gently, and brought it to my lips. I took a sip.
"I don't know if it's good," she said, nervously. "It's just... carrot, potato, shredded chicken, and a bit of thyme and leek. Don't laugh—I just followed a recipe online."
I blinked at her. The thought was almost laughable—but the lump in my throat wasn't from amusement. It was from the sight of Sloane, my brilliant wife who could dissect contracts without blinking, looking so nervous over a simple bowl of soup.
"You cooked for me..." I murmured, smiling, face flushed.
She raised a brow and sighed. "You're sick," she countered. "I didn't want you starving yourself while you're unwell."
"It's good, actually," I whispered, reaching for the spoon she held. The broth was warm and soothing, filling a hollow I hadn't realized was so deep. I swallowed a spoonful, then another.
When I glanced up, she was watching me with that familiar look—the same one she gave me after matches, when she worried whether I'd broken a wrist or was just being dramatic.
"Well, at least my effort didn't go to waste," she exhaled in relief, shoulders sagging. She stayed close but didn't push—just remained near.
"Why would it go to waste? I'll eat everything you cook, even if it's not edible," I teased softly.
She gasped, clutching her chest. "Are you literally saying I'm not a good cook? Because I could tell you've been enjoying everything I've cooked for the past months!"
I laughed, shaking my head. "Everything you've cooked is great. I remember when you learned to cook just for me."
Her face flushed as she avoided my gaze. "It'd be a shame if we lived together and you only ate fried food. If it's not fried, it's overcooked," she chuckled, leaning back against the headboard. "But thanks to that, at least I can cook a lot of things now."
I hummed in agreement, finishing the soup. She set the tray aside on the bedside table and handed me a cup of lemon tea.
"So? How are you feeling now? Want to rest a little more?" she asked gently.
I smiled, locking my gaze on her. "I'm not sleepy yet. Actually... do you have a gown ready for the founding anniversary? If not, I can make one for you."
Blinking at me, Sloane raised a brow. "Are you serious right now, Ro?"
"Why?" I frowned. "I'm just imagining you in a sleek mermaid gown, midnight navy silk satin, with Swarovski crystals for details," I shrugged.
She scoffed, setting the cup in my hand aside. With a sigh, she leaned against my chest, wrapping her arms around my abdomen. "I actually haven't looked for a gown yet... but if this won't take too much of your time, I'll take your offer."
"I'll surprise you with the design," I said, smiling as I wrapped my arms around her too, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "Oh, right," I added. "I'm planning a fashion week soon, releasing some of my collections for the fashion house."
Sloane shifted, resting her head on my thighs and turning to face me. She smiled. "When was the last time you released any of your other collections?"
My brow knitted. "Well... early last year, before my business trips. Those collections sold really well, but this one will be a limited edition—we won't be making another batch."
"That's nice," Sloane said, looking at me. "As expected of you—you really know how to manage fashion designs," she clicked her tongue.
I gave a faint smile, stroking her hair. "It's because I don't know when I'll be able to release collections like this again," I admitted, swallowing hard. "I'm taking it one step at a time."
She nodded, hands reaching up to cup my face. "There's no need to rush. We have plenty of time, Ro."
A knot formed in my throat, and I couldn't help but smile knowingly at her.
We have plenty of time... "You're right.
We have plenty of time," I agreed, poking her nose.
"I'm already starting to feel better. You're such a great nurse, Sloey," I teased, letting the wave of emotions inside me ease.