The time between wolf and dog tired me out to such an extend that I fell sick all of a sudden. And, considering that in Jongin’s house resided Byul as well, I chose to carry my illness in the confinement of my apartment, away from people and alone with my thoughts only.

That was a tiresome period I still vaguely remember. It was like going back and forth from some kind of a present filled with illusions, to the cold reality. And most of the times I’d be caught in the web of imaginary touches my own mind had prepared for me; cold hands would give comfort through the feverish hours, wet lips would bring my thirst to a stop and murmured words would make me crave for the needed power to just spread my arms and accept the ghost inside my chest, inside my beating heart.

But then the reality would check in, crushing all hope for me. That’s when I’d cry the most, hidden under thick layers of blankets, wishing to never open my eyes again.

And no matter how much I wished to die, I started feeling better after two weeks, the sickness leaving me weaker than before and limping around the apartment, wrapped around in a thick blanket, the heater and set on 25 Celsius degrees, craving for salty food and some nice words. But I didn’t have the guts to call Jongin and ask him to come over. No, not when I was a mess, not when I felt like crying even when going to the bathroom and hearing the echo of the running water in the whole apartment.

However, as if reading my mind or answering to some silent calling, he appeared in my doorstep one evening, carrying different white bags.

“Delivery is here,” he spoke into the intercom, pridefully showing me the bags.

“I didn’t order anything,” I shyly opened the door for him to enter. “Thank you,” I heard myself seconds later while watching him taking out all kind of home made foods that smelled deliciously, making my stomach growl.

“You should have answered my calls,” he scolded me while kissing my temple and pulling me closer. “Do you know how worried I was for you?!”

“I didn’t want you to get some germs from here and deliver them to Byul. It was just a nasty flu,” I shrugged, peeking at what hid inside a casserole. “Did you cook these for me?”

“Who else? Dig in!” His eyes measured me from head to toes and stopped for a second longer on my skinny legs. Under his stare, I just pulled the blanket closer to my body and reached out to the casserole that contained some hot chicken stew. “You’ve g