Zoya was halfway through a late-night assignment when her phone buzzed.

> Ayaan: “Bro’s not picking up. He looked off today. Said he had a headache. Can you check on him? I’m stuck at home rn.”

She frowned.

Akif had looked pale during class. His usual sharp energy dulled, his eyes heavy. But he brushed it off like always.

Zoya didn’t even hesitate.

---

The rain had started again — not heavy, just a soft drizzle as she reached Akif’s building. The guard let her up without question — everyone here knew her by now.

She knocked once. No response.

Twice. Still nothing.

Her chest tightened.

“Akif?” she called softly, turning the knob — it was unlocked.

The lights were dim. A soft hum of the fan echoed in the silence.

She stepped in.

And saw him — lying curled up on the bed, shirt clinging to his skin with sweat, eyes shut tight, his brows furrowed in discomfort.

Zoya’s heart dropped.

“Akif?” she whispered, rushing to his side.

He groaned faintly but didn’t open his eyes.

She touched his forehead.

Burning.

---

Within minutes, she had a wet cloth on his head, his hoodie off, a thermometer under his tongue, and a bag of meds Ayaan’s mom had left in the kitchen.

He stirred. “Zoya...?”

She froze.

His voice was raspy, low, broken.

“I’m here,” she said, squeezing his hand gently.

“Why… are you… here?”

“Ayaan texted me. You weren’t answering. Don’t worry, okay?”

He hummed, half-conscious.

Then softly: “Did you miss me that much?”

Zoya blinked.

“Idiot,” she muttered, wiping his forehead. “You’re burning up and still flirting?”

But her fingers slowed.

Softened.

She ran them through his hair, feeling how warm and fragile he seemed — so different from the confident, composed Akif she knew.

She didn’t realize how long she sat there, watching his chest rise and fall.

---

Around midnight, he shifted again, whispering something.

She leaned closer.

“...don’t leave…”

Zoya froze.

Her heart cracked a little.

“I won’t,” she whispered back, wrapping the blanket around him and sitting beside the bed on the floor.

She stayed.

All night.

---

When the sun rose and the fever had broken, Akif stirred again — this time more aware.

The first thing he saw?

Zoya, asleep with her head resting against the side of his bed, her hand still tangled with his.

He stared.

His heart stuttered.

She was there.

For him.

And she stayed.

A small, grateful smile tugged at his lips.

“You’re unbelievable,” he whispered.

And with whatever little strength he had left, he brushed a finger again

st her cheek.

She shifted, half-awake, and murmured, “Shut up and sleep.”

He chuckled softly.

“Yes, ma’am.”

---