The Stranger I Married

Ella woke up to the dull ache in her head and the uncomfortable heat coursing through her body. Her throat felt like sandpaper, and every breath was a struggle, shallow and heavy. She blinked, trying to make sense of the room bathed in soft morning light filtering through the curtains. The events of the previous night came rushing back—her car breaking down, Nicholas’s unexpected kindness, and that frustratingly charming smirk that had stayed in her mind long after she went to bed.

But now, all she could think about was how utterly miserable she felt. She groaned, pulling the blanket over her head to block out the light. Her limbs felt weighed down, and even the thought of getting up seemed impossible.

Minutes—or maybe hours—passed. She wasn’t sure. Just as she thought about forcing herself to move, there was a soft knock at the door. Before she could muster the energy to respond, the door opened, and Nicholas’s voice broke the silence.

"Ella?" he called, his tone light, though she could hear a hint of concern. "You haven’t come down for breakfast. Are you planning to sleep the whole day away?"

She winced at the sound of his voice. "Go away," she croaked, her throat protesting every word.

Nicholas stepped inside, shutting the door behind him. "That doesn’t sound good," he said, his footsteps drawing closer. "Are you okay?"

Ella peeked out from under the blanket, her pale face and tired eyes meeting his sharp gaze. "I’m fine," she muttered, though her hoarse voice and flushed cheeks betrayed her.

Nicholas crossed his arms, his expression skeptical. "You don’t look fine."

"I’ll be fine," she insisted, trying to sit up. The effort left her dizzy, and she collapsed back onto the pillow with a groan.

Nicholas frowned, stepping closer to the bed. He crouched down, his face level with hers. "You’re burning up," he said, his tone soft but firm. "Why didn’t you say anything?"

"It’s nothing," she murmured, her eyes fluttering shut. "I just need rest."