It has been a few days since the car ambush. Stefano has been working hard to come up with leads to find out why I was attacked that day. I have also been investigating myself, I haven t come up with anything so far. We were close to getting some information from one of the guys that attacked me, but before we could question him, he killed himself.
I asked my dad to think of any of his enemies that might have been behind the attack, he doesn t feel they are responsible like the first time I asked him. Most of the people he has problems with signed a peace treaty to end the killings of both parties. It s not been easy for Stefano with the stress from his other job and coming home late every night is always exhausting for him.
I am walking to the kitchen to get a glass of water; I woke up in the middle of the night thirsty. Arriving in the kitchen I find someone standing in front of the fridge. Walking closer, I see Stefano grabbing a bottle of juice from the refrigerator. He looks exhausted, like he has all week, but something is different tonight. There is sweat on his forehead. Was he working out? I don t think so, he is not wearing gym clothes, he is also not sweating anywhere else.
"You are sweating."
"I know," he says hoarsely.
"You do not sound, okay? Are you OK?" I ask, concerned. I lift my hand to feel his forehead, but he pushes my hand away before it touches his forehead.
"Do not touch me," he says, lazily dropping his hand after swinging mine away.
"I think you are sick," I say, ignoring his protest of me touching him. I place my hand on his neck. He is burning up; he might have a fever. "Your temperature is high; you need to take something to help your temperature go down."
"I am not sick, don t touch me ever again," he says, walking away from the kitchen.
While walking up the steps, he almost falls. I quickly walk over to help him before he does. My body comes in contact with his and I feel the heat radiating from his body. His temperature must be really high. He tries to push me away, but he is too weak to succeed. I help him up the stairs and into his room. His room is dark, I can barely see anything and the way the room is decorated is not helping.
The walls are painted grey; the bedsheets are black with everything on it. I think the brightest color in in the room are curtains that are ash in color. I gently place him on the bed and walk over to his bathroom to look for some medicine. A lot of people keep their medicine in the bathroom cabinets, I am hoping he does too. I step inside the bathroom to check the cabinets. Luckily for me, I find a few drugs that can help reduce his fever. I walk back downstairs to get a glass of water and walk back to his room. I find him sleeping, I have never seen him look more peaceful in my life. I gently wake him up to take the drugs but he does not want to.
"I am not sick so…" Stefano says, but does not get to finish talking, as I forcefully put the drugs in his mouth. If looks could kill, I would be five feet under the ground right now from the look I am getting from him.
"You might want to kill me for doing that but it s for your own good," I say, handing him the glass of water.
He doesn t say anything, harshly grabbing the glass of water and takes a sip. He places the glass of water on his side table and lays down to sleep. I walk downstairs to the kitchen to get a bowl and walk back to his room. I walk to the bathroom and fill the bowl with cold water. I walk out with the bowl in my hand and a hand towel. I sit on a chair that I dragged beside his bed and place the bowl on his side table. I dip the towel in the bowl of water and squeeze most of the water out before putting it on Stefano s head. He is sleeping so peacefully; I take my time to admire him. His chest is rising and falling calmly. I don t know why but I don t mind watching him sleep. I spend the whole night taking care of him.
I wake up the following day with an ache in my neck. I must have fallen asleep in the chair last night. I find Stefano still sleeping. I place my palm on his forehead, I am happy his temperature has gone down. I quietly walk downstairs to make breakfast for him and me, Maria has the day off and won t be able to make food for us today.
I make French toast with eggs and coffee. I put it on a breakfast table and walk upstairs to give it to him. I knock on the door before entering in case he woke up while I was gone, but he doesn t answer. I guess he is still sleeping. I walk inside but I don t find him on the bed, so I place the food on a table and walk around the room to find him. I find him dressing up in the walk-in closet. He is putting on his shirt, and it takes me a good second before I speak because of how toned his back is. The way his muscles are flexing while putting on the shirt makes me feel hot all of a sudden.
"Stefano, you can t go to work, you haven t fully recovered," I say, coming back from my daydreaming.
"I am not sick, so I can, what are you doing in my room?"
"I brought you breakfast, and as much as you might not like it, you are sick."
"I am fine, stop arguing with me about my own health."
"No, you are not. You have barely recovered and shouldn t be going to work yet. You need to rest for at least a day, it s a Saturday you aren t supposed to go to work today."
"I will go to work any day I please, now leave my room. I want to finish getting ready alone," he says, putting emphasis on the word "alone".
"At least have breakfast before you go," I say, giving up hope of him listening to me.
"Okay, I will," he says, I can clearly tell from his voice that he only said it to get me to leave.
"Thank you," I say, walking out of his room.
It has been a few hours since Stefano left for work. I am in the living room watching TV when my phone rings. I answer the facetime call from Aurora.
"How are you doing," Aurora asks, as I pick up.
"I am good, and you?"
"I am good too; you don t look so good. You look tired, why?"
"Stefano was sick last night, I spent most of the night taking care of him."
"Is he okay? I hope it s nothing serious," Aurora asks, sounding worried for her brother.
"It s nothing serious, just a little fever."
"Oh, Thank God, where is he? Can you pass the phone to him so that I could say "Hi?"
"He isn t here; he is at work?"
"He went to work the next day after having a fever?"
"I told him to rest at home today, but he refused"
"I am not surprised."
"You know your brother well."
"Yeah, I do, thank you for taking care of him."
"You don t have to thank me; you are like family to me. I would do anything for you."
"I know, that s why I love you."
"I love you too,"
"Alright, bye I called to check up on you guys."
"Bye, Aurora," I say, hanging up the phone.