"Okay." Easton agreed quickly. Then he looked at his watch and said, "I have something to do. I'll leave first."
Watching his departing figure, I suddenly felt sad.
I had been in love with him for six years.
It was at midnight.
Suddenly, I had a high fever. My whole body was burning.
In the heat, I felt someone touching my forehead with a slightly cool hand.
I half-opened my eyes and vaguely saw a white corner of clothing, murmuring, "Easton?"
The hand on my forehead trembled slightly.
"It's me."
I instantly became half awake, struggling to open my eyelids. Then I saw Easton's pale face.
"You have a fever," Easton said gently with great concern.
He got up. I reached out and grabbed his wrist.
I asked, "Where are you going?"
Holding mine, with a broad hand, he patiently comforted me and said, "I'm going to call the family doctor."
All the grievances that had been building up in my heart burst out at this moment. As tears rolled out of my eyes, I said, "Why do you always do this?
"One moment you're aloof and distant like a stranger. The next moment, you're caring for me so much.
"I beg you. If you don't like me, please don't give me any hope."