The next morning, sunlight gently streamed through the curtains, painting the room with a soft glow. Savannah was still in bed, her face pale and her body weak. She had cried herself to sleep the night before, and now she felt sick and drained. Her head hurt, and her body felt heavy, but she didn’t want to get up.Adrian quietly opened the bedroom door with a tray in his hands. He had made her breakfast himself — warm tea, toast, and a little fruit. He placed the tray carefully on the bedside table and sat beside her, looking at her with concern written all over his face.“Good morning, my love,” he said softly, brushing a strand of hair from her face. Savannah opened her eyes slowly and forced a small smile. “Morning,” she whispered weakly.“You’re burning up,” Adrian said, touching her forehead gently. “You’ve got a fever.” “I’m fine,” Savannah murmured, trying to sit up, but he quickly helped her. “No, you’re not fine. You didn’t eat dinner last night. You didn’t even talk
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