I’d spent almost the entire day buried beneath two blankets, sweating through my T-shirt despite the chills running through my body. My throat hurt so badly that even drinking water had become uncomfortable.
That morning, Nathan had stood beside our bed, watching me struggle to sit up.
“Yoli, I’m serious. I can call in sick.”
“You have that quarterly meeting,” I reminded him.
“I also have a wife with a fever.”
“I have medicine, water, and the television remote. I’ll survive. Go.”
He leaned down and pressed his hand against my forehead.
“You’re burning up.”