Anya’s POV
The fever… he must not be thinking straight. He must think I’m someone else—me from before, the girl he once loved or rather pretended to love.
I swallowed hard and forced myself to breathe.
“I’m right here,” I whispered, even though my voice wobbled. “Just hang on, okay? Don’t move.”
He blinked slowly, his eyes slipping shut again.
I stood up so fast the bed shook. “I’ll be right back, I promise.”
I rushed out of the room, almost tripping down the stairs. The housekeeper was in the kitchen wiping down the counter.
“He’s burning up,” I blurted out. “He’s really sick. You need to call the doctor. Now.”
Her eyes widened and she immediately grabbed the house phone, dialing so fast her fingers shook.
I didn’t wait for her to finish. I grabbed a metal bowl from under the cou
