Michael's POV
I sat behind Allyson as she positioned herself cross-legged at the edge of our bed, wearing nothing but my oversized dress shirt. I moved the towel through her damp hair in slow, deliberate strokes as I worked to dry each strand with careful attention.
"Michael, you really don't need to do all this. I feel perfectly fine," she said softly, leaning back into the towel's warmth.
"Mmm," I responded, unconvinced. "You vomited multiple times before breakfast and almost collapsed in the bathroom. I think I'll continue fussing, thank you."
She attempted to rise from the bed, but I placed my hand on her shoulder, applying gentle pressure to keep her in place.
"Stay in bed."
"Michael..."
"No arguments," I interrupted smoothly.
Her expression darkened with frustration. "Michael, you might have the luxury of abandoning work on a whim, but I actually have responsibilities. Missing work without notice could have serious consequences for me."
