Betsy Russell returned to her room, took a shower, and lay down again. After tossing and turning for five minutes, she sat up helplessly and turned on the light.
Sigh.
She still couldn't be tough with Thad Drew. His face looked terrible, as if he were seriously ill. It had been an hour, and she didn't know if he had left.
Betsy put on her slippers and walked to the door. Through the gap, she could vaguely see that the living room light was still on.
She opened the door and walked towards the sofa, only to see Thad still lying there, maintaining the position she saw him in before she went into the bedroom.
"Thad Drew?" Betsy tentatively called out.
However, Thad's face was slightly red, and he did not respond to her.
Betsy frowned, pulled his hand away from his forehead, and touched her back of the hand to it.
So hot!
Such a serious fever!
