And Then It Rained (Sequel to Rain Again; Stand Alone Book) (Completed)

Chapter Twenty-Two: The Fever and a Night Together

"Isn't it when people smear each other with colors and dance all the while?" he looked genuinely interested.

"Yeah, mom used to take me to Holi celebrations every year." Her eyes sparkled with the excitement of sharing a delightful memory—a part of her that did not contain any bruises. "I still ritually do that and remember our limited but invaluable moments together."

To remove the melancholy in her tone, she cleared her throat and sipped some water from the glass.

"You still hurt for her," his tone held sympathy as he said. He looked apologetic the next moment, though, "I'm sorry."

"No worries," Victoria shook her head, wiping her mouth with the napkin and bringing out her wallet to pay the bill.

However, Victor protested vehemently and demanded that she let him pay. He even brought up last night when she did not let him pay either and described how cross he was about it.

"You don't have to pay for me, Victor. In fact, you shouldn't."

"Why?" his eyes narrowed.

Victoria couldn't get how a man could be so daft. "Because we're not a real couple," she told the stark truth. "I can bear my own expenses, Victor. You don't have to lose more than what you've already because of me."

And right from that moment on, Victor's entire posture changed. He kept on brooding even when they parted ways. He left in his car after giving her a curt nod. Now, this complete three-sixty-degree turn by him didn't make sense to her. She thought they had established some sort of a truce between themselves. Besides, at the end bit, she had just rephrased what he had declared to her following their wedding.

No matter how it sounded, it was the truth, after all.

Victor didn't come home until very late that night. He had, however, cooked a bit too much last night in the short span of that half an hour time she had spent taking a shower. 

The guy seriously was a chef in his last life.

For a while, Victoria waited for him to have dinner together before giving up as she felt a sudden headache blurring her vision. Heating up some pasta from the freeze, she ate it forcefully and vomited her guts out ten minutes after. By when she swayed her way to the bed, she was also shivering badly.

It felt like a fever, yet there was no way to confirm as she didn't know the location of a thermometer in this apartment. She had a few medicines in the inside pocket of her camera bag, but she recalled she had dropped the bag on the couch in the living room upon returning home. So, she decided that sleep had to be her medicine since she neither had the energy nor the willpower to go that far with a whirling vision.

In her half-awake, half-asleep state, she could hear herself moaning from the agony of the fever. 

It felt like a dream that a soft touch covered her forehead. 

Many things happened after that—some irritating, some relieving.

A thin, toothpick-like something was slipped into her mouth. It even beeped! 

Something ice-cold covered her entire forehead, and she jumped. In a dreamlike state, she opened her eyes to a dimly lit room. A silhouette of a man stood at her bedside. His movements were unclear. 

Her thoughts drifted back and forth to many different parts of her life. It felt like she was traveling through time, relieving her life, drifting among her memories. 

She blinked again. Her eyes were half-closed. 

Was it her father? She wondered. Her heart thudded with a foreboding feeling. A nightmare containing bruising, aching, excruciating memories consumed her feverish being.