I rested and got smothered with Lucian's version of "care." Which meant round-the-clock supervision and on-the-dot drinking of medicines. And I eventually got better.
After two more days, that is. And it wasn't even a perfect cure; it was just me being able to breathe through my nose.
This meant a delay in what I actually had to do. There were places to be and documents that wouldn't approve themselves.
So when I talked to Rina, who nearly talked my ear off about how we signed a pact and could not die without notifying each other of impending doom, I learned I had much less work than expected.
Huh?
"How come there's much less things to do? Did we scrap some things that I didn't know about? Or did you perform some miracles?" I couldn't help but ask her over the phone.
"No. But your 'hubby' did." Rina sounded annoyed at this.
"What do you even mean? And what 'hubby'?"
