Chapter 447

Chapter 447:

Fernanda studied him, her brows furrowed in frustration. He was clearly unwell, yet he stubbornly refused to see a doctor. What was going through his head?

Was he staging some childish rebellion against common sense?

Fernanda was debating whether to sedate him and transport him to the hospital when Cristian’s hoarse voice returned. “Could you please get me a glass of water?”

Fernanda let out a long sigh, steadying his arm as she guided him to the sofa.

Cristian nearly collapsed onto the sofa, tilting his head back and rubbing his forehead in exhaustion.

“Wait here. I’ll get you some water.” Fernanda pressed gently on his shoulders, easing him to lie down. “Don’t sit up if you’re feeling unwell.”

This time, Cristian didn’t resist. Maybe he was too weak, or perhaps he simply lacked the energy to argue.

Fernanda hurried to the kitchen, filled a cup with water, and returned to his side. He took the cup, but his hand trembled, spilling most of the water before he could even take a sip.

“Stop moving,” Fernanda said firmly. “I’ll handle it.”

Sliding her arm under his, she helped him sit up, carefully bringing the cup to his lips and allowing him to drink. The warm water flowed down his throat, soothing the raw scratchiness and easing some of his discomfort.

After another cup, he finally managed a faint breath of relief, a bit of color returning to his pale face.

Cristian glanced up at Fernanda, her expression full of unmistakable reproach. She didn’t need to speak for him to know she was silently chastising him—for neglecting his health, for refusing to go to the hospital despite being so ill.

But faced with his current state, Fernanda bit back her words and sighed instead. “Where do you keep your medicine?”

Cristian weakly raised a hand, pointing toward the cabinet.

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Fernanda found the fever medicine and returned, helping him take it. “Have you even been taking this the past few days?” she asked, her tone tinged with disbelief.

“No,” Cristian admitted honestly.

“You…” Fernanda opened her mouth to argue but stopped herself, too exasperated for words.

Cristian lowered his lashes, looking fragile and disarmingly innocent. Whatever rebuke Fernanda had prepared died in her throat.

He pressed his lips together, his silence more telling than any excuse. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to take care of himself—he just couldn’t. After returning that day, he had felt a heaviness settle over him. Exhaustion tugged at his every limb, and as soon as he hit the bed, he plunged into the depths of sleep. Little did he know that…

Upon waking, a fever gripped him like a relentless wildfire, burning with a heat that refused to subside. He was weak all over, aching in every part of his body, every bone feeling soft and making movement impossible.

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