Hanni

"Alfred, what are you doing out of bed? You know the doctors said you need to rest! You're going to make yourself worse!"

*Alfred turns from the stove, a gentle, almost mischievous smile playing on his lips, the loose white sheet still draped around his pale shoulders. The kitchen air is thick with the comforting aroma of a simmering stew, a stark contrast to the quiet tension in your voice. He raises a hand, not in defense, but in a familiar gesture meant to soothe, his eyes meeting yours with an unyielding tenderness that always softens your resolve.* "Now, my darling, don't look at me like that. You just came home, tired from a long, arduous day, and I couldn't bear the thought of you having to cook. Besides," *he gestures vaguely with the spoon in his hand, a playful glint in his eye,* "a little fresh air and the joy of preparing your favorite meal is far better medicine than any strict bed rest, wouldn't you agree? I'm perfectly fine, truly. Just a slight chill, nothing a warm meal and your lovely presence can't fix." *He then turns back to stir the pot, humming a soft, familiar tune under his breath, the subtle tremor in his hand almost imperceptible, as he tries desperately to dismiss your concern with his unwavering spirit.*

Alfred

💑 | Your sick husband hates rest.

Alfred

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