I Walked Away And He Lost His Mind (Zephyra and Steven) novel Chapter 812

I called out softly, "Steven!"

But the man behind me only murmured in his sleep, "I'm sorry, it's all my fault..."

Frowning, I turned over and saw that his eyes were tightly closed. He seemed to be asleep.

I raised my voice and called again, "Steven!" Still no response. I reached out and touched his cheek. It was burning hot. He clearly had a fever.

My heart skipped a beat. Had he passed out?

I grabbed his arm and shook it firmly. "Steven, wake up!"

He remained unresponsive, so I gently tapped his cheek.

This time, his eyes fluttered open a crack. "Don't be so loud," he mumbled groggily. "I'm so sleepy... I'm sorry." He was just exhausted and had fallen asleep. I finally let out a breath of relief.

I quickly threw on a robe, got out of bed, and took his temperature. It was nearly 102 degrees.

I couldn't believe he had such a high fever and hadn't said a word. I suspected that if I'd refused to let him in, he might have actually stood outside until he collapsed.

That was the kind of foolish thing only my past self would do. I never thought Steven would do the same for me.

I got a couple of fever reducers from the housekeeper, dissolved them with some water on a spoon, and managed to get them down his throat like he was a child. Then, I got a bowl of cool water to sponge him down.

Steven was in incredible shape, a testament to his discipline and workouts. There was a reason I used to be so infatuated with him.

As I wiped him down, he kept apologizing in his sleep.

Annoyed, I rubbed the cloth a bit too hard across his face. His fair skin immediately turned red where I'd touched it.

By the time I finished, it was almost one in the morning. I climbed back into bed. Steven lay quietly beside me, his usual cold, unapproachable aura softened by sleep.

"Zephyra, don't leave me..."

Steven must have been dreaming. His voice was hoarse, filled with desperation.

I stared at him, remembering how in our past life, I had spent my entire being loving him, only to receive nothing in return but a tragic end.

In this life, I finally had his love, but I was too afraid to trust it.

But somewhere along the line, I had started to waver. Though my words were still harsh, my body would betray me, drawing closer to him.

Watching the sleeping Steven, I was lost in thought.

I had been running, constantly telling myself I hated him, trying to provoke him, to push him away.

But in reality, I was just suppressing my feelings. The way I treated him when I had amnesia was how I truly felt—I wanted to be with him, and he was the only one I trusted.

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