Thursday evening, one week after Emma recovered from her fever.
Emma was on the balcony of their home, looking out at the bustling city with its evening lights. The sounds from the streets below seemed distant and echoing, creating a calm backdrop for her turbulent thoughts.
Marcus had just finished work at home. Marcus brought two cups of hot tea and sat beside Emma on the balcony.
"What are you thinking about?" asked Marcus while handing a cup of tea to Emma.
Emma accepted the cup with both hands. Emma felt the warmth of the tea seeping into her bones, which still felt weak from yesterday's illness.
"I have been thinking about what happened last week," answered Emma softly. "When I was sick and you stayed beside me. You took care of me with such care."
"That is what I was supposed to do," said Marcus simply. "You are my wife. I love you."
