Andrew's chapped lips moved up and down, and after saying this, he opened the door and walked inside the room.
After turning around and pouring himself a glass of water, he gulped it down.
"I'll be downstairs in ten minutes."
......
Ten minutes later—
Andrew appeared right on time in the living room, and whether it was the lighting or not, today, Andrew's face seemed particularly unwell.
Seeing him like this, Shirley Grant frowned.
"Andrew, are you not feeling well?"
Finally, Shirley Grant asked.
"It's nothing, probably just lack of sleep, my head hurts a bit."
Andrew's voice was hoarse, holding his coat, he was ready to head out the door.
"I've already booked the plane tickets, we'll head to the airport now, and we should arrive by tonight."
Shirley Grant nodded and immediately followed.
After getting in the car, she still felt uneasy, hesitating for a long time before reaching out to touch his forehead.
"Andrew, you have a fever."
