Hold My Tear, I’m Getting My Wife Back! ( Leanne Castillo ) novel Chapter 277

Chapter 277 

Leanne felt utterly drained, as if every ounce of energy had been sapped from her body. Even the effort to tell him not to get too close, in case he caught whatever she had, came out as a weak, pained moan. 

Curtis, seemingly oblivious or perhaps choosing to ignore her feeble protests, only held her closer. His hand gently stroked her back, his voice low and soothing as he comforted her. 

Illness has a way of making one feel vulnerable, and Leanne wasn’t sure if it was Curtis’ comforting words or the simple act of being held that helped ease her discomfort. 

Her voice was barely a whisper when Curtis asked, “Where does it hurt?” 

“My head… it’s throbbing,” Leanne managed to say between gasps. 

Curtis’ fingers then carefully worked their way through her damp hair, massaging her scalp with a practiced ease that was neither too gentle nor too forceful, just perfect. 

Gradually, Leanne quieted down, the furrow in her brow smoothing out as she found solace in his embrace, like a sheltered harbor amidst a stormy sea. She, the tempest-tossed vessel, had no choice but to seek refuge. 

When she awoke the next morning, her headache had subsided slightly, though her body felt heavy, and her fever persisted, her throat even more sore than before. 

The memory of last night’s embrace lingered as she glanced at the empty side of the bed 

Had he left? Or was it all just a dream? 

Just then, the door opened, and Curtis entered under her fixed gaze, asking if she wa for some breakfast. 

It was easy for Leanne to be swept up in the illusion that they were back in their cozy in Northwood, surrounded by sweet, bubbly memories. 

She noticed the subtle changes in Curtis’ features, a hint of maturity added to his gentl 

smile. 

As Leanne reached for her slippers at the bedside, Curtis scooped them up and slipped them onto her feet. 

“Do you want me to carry you?” 

“I’m just under the weather, not incapacitated,” Leanne retorted, making her way to the bathroom to freshen up. 

When she returned, breakfast was served. 

Curtis had prepared the comforting chicken noodle soup, the broth clear and the chick 

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tender, devoid of any fishiness, smooth to the palate. 

The side dishes were thoughtfully chosen for their soothing qualities – a soft scrambled egg, lightly sautéed spinach, zucchini stew, with diced apples and kiwi for a hint of 

sweetness. 

Her throat hurt so much, it felt like she was swallowing shards of glass, so she hardly ate 

anything. 

Curtis, dressed in a suit, was tying his tie as he mentioned he’d sorted her medication and would be back from the office in about two hours. 

Leanne stirred the soup idly, suggesting he needn’t bother returning. 

Curtis glanced at her, teasing, “You were all cuddles last night, and now you’re turning cold? Do we only exist to each other in the night?” 

Speechless at his insinuation, Leanne spent the day wrapped in blankets, feeling as if termites had hollowed out her bones, leaving them achy and weak. 

After Curtis left for work, she ventured downstairs for a brief walk, hoping the fresh air would clear her foggy mind, only to return more exhausted.