'HOW ARE YOU FEELING?' I ASKED, WHEN MY mother slumped down the stairs the next morning. Her nose was raw and red around the edges; her eyes were watery and puffy. She looked miserable - I shouldn't have even asked.

'I think I'm dying,' she snuffled.

'You should go back to bed. Tell me what you need and I'll get it for you.'

'Tea,' she requested pitifully. 'And some flu medicine so my head doesn't feel like it's going to explode any more.' 

'I'll get that,' Chanyeol offered, appearing at the kitchen entrance, showered and dressed. 

'Thanks,' she said in a nasally voice, before sneezing into the balled-up tissue in her hand. 'I wish you weren't seeing me like this.'

'Don't even go there,' Chanyeol consoled her with a warm smile. 'You're sick, and even sick, you're beautiful.' He wrapped his arms around her as she flopped on to his chest. He held her and smoothed the damp strands of hair that were stuck to her feverish face. He was braver than I was. I was afraid of going within three feet of her. She was oozing from every orifice. 

'I'll bring the tea up in a minute,' I told her as Chanyeol escorted her back up the stairs.

'I'll be right back,' Chanyeol announced a few mintues later on his way out the door.

I took the tea to her room and set it down on the night stand. She had her eyes closed and the blankets pulled up to her nose. 

'Do you like him?' she asked as I was walking towards the door.