Sebastian's POV
I've been stabbed, shot, chased, betrayed, and nearly blown up.But nothing — nothing — has ever made me feel this defeated.
Not until I got married.To Ray Lin.And caught the flu.
Now I'm lying in bed, drenched in sweat, with my bones made of lead, and a small, furious woman sitting on my chest like she's the CEO of human paperweights.
"I'm going to that meeting," I say.
"You're delusional," she says, crossing her arms, glaring down at me like she's sentencing me to life in bedrest prison. "And I am the meeting now."
"You're not in charge of me."
She leans in, her nose practically touching mine. "I married you. That makes me in charge of everything. Including whether you get to die of stupidity today."
I cough. Regret it instantly.
"See?" she says, victorious, like my lungs betraying me was a tactical win in our ongoing marriage chess game. "Your body agrees with me. Stay in bed."
I shift. She doesn't move. She's got her legs tucked under her and is holding the blankets hostage like she's guarding national treasure.
"You can't keep me here forever," I say.
"I only need to keep you here until you stop looking like a murder victim," she replies sweetly, pressing a cool hand to my forehead. "You're burning up, Sebastian. You literally radiated heat when I hugged you this morning."
"I thought you just missed me."
She pauses. Her face softens. Her fingers run gently through my hair. "I always miss you," she says, quieter now. "But you scared me. You looked pale. You never get sick. It's weird."
"It's just a fever, baby."
She frowns. "You never say 'baby' unless you're dying."
I let out a low laugh. That hurts too.
Ray sighs. She gets off me, finally, but only to sit beside me, legs curled under her, her brows furrowed with concern like she's trying to memorize every line on my face.
"You're not allowed to scare me," she whispers. "I married you to annoy me forever, not to make me worry like this."
"You love me."
"I do," she says instantly, without a beat of hesitation. "And I love you too much to let you get out of bed like this. So just... be still, okay? Just for today. For me."
Damn it.That voice. That face. That everything.
"You win," I murmur, reaching out and curling my fingers gently around hers. "I'll stay."
She lights up. Literally. Like someone plugged a string of fairy lights into her smile.
"Good," she says, hopping up to her feet. "Now, soup. And then I'm coming back with my phone to make you watch those duck videos you like."
"I don't like duck videos."
"You giggled, Sebastian."
"I did not giggle—"
She kisses my forehead mid-protest, and I forget what words are.
"I'll be back in five," she says, skipping out of the room.
And there I am. Mafia boss. Drenched in fever. Staring at the door like a lovesick idiot.
I should be resting.Instead, I'm planning.
I'm going to bribe Kai to find me the softest blanket on earth.I'm going to call the office and cancel my day.And when I feel better, I'm taking her to that beach she mentioned last month.
Because it turns out...The only thing more dangerous than Ray Lin scolding me?
Is how much I want to keep her smiling like that.Forever.
---
Sebastian's POV
"I am not eating that."
Ray raises an eyebrow. "It's soup, Sebastian. You are not a five-year-old."
I eye the tray she's placed on my lap. The bowl is hot, steaming, suspiciously full of vegetables and whatever that weird green floating leaf is.
"I don't trust it."
"You don't trust chicken noodle soup?"
"I don't trust anything with that many carrots."
She sets her hands on her hips and leans down, lips brushing my ear with mock-sweetness. "Eat. The. Soup."
I sigh dramatically, as if she's asking me to walk barefoot through a battlefield.
Ray picks up the spoon. She blows on it, carefully, then holds it up like a spoonful of betrayal.
I open my mouth, take a bite... and nearly moan.
It's perfect. Warm, rich, stupidly good.
She notices.
"Oh my God," she grins, eyes sparkling. "You like it."
"I tolerate it."
"You love it."
"Stop lying to the media."
Ray scoops another spoonful. "Say 'ahh,' Mr. Mafia."
"Call me that again and I'm throwing you over my shoulder."
"Too late. You're sick. I'm in charge now." She feeds me again. "Say 'thank you, my beautiful genius wife.'"
I stare at her. "No."
"Then no more soup."
"...Thank you, my beautiful genius wife."
She beams like she just won the Nobel Peace Prize. "You're welcome, Mr. Grumpypants."
I let her feed me a few more bites. She's humming now — some little tune she always does when she's happy — and she keeps dabbing at my forehead with a cloth like I'm some dramatic Victorian damsel.
"I don't need a nurse," I grumble, mostly out of pride.
She leans down and kisses my burning forehead. "Too bad. You married one."
The worst part?She's right.
And I wouldn't trade this moment for a billion-dollar deal, a ceasefire, or even the upper hand in a fight.
She spoons one last bite, and I let her win. Again.Because her smile is worth surrendering for.