Ella cautiously approached and suddenly lifted the quilt, revealing the person on the bed that made her pause.
"Henry Russell? How are you here?"
Henry Russell lay there with his eyes closed, his face flushed abnormally.
She reached out to find that his forehead was burning hot, but his body was ice-cold when she accidentally touched it.
"What's wrong with you?" She asked anxiously, dropping the vase.
Henry Russell sneezed, shivering a little. Ella's hand was so slippery and soft that he couldn't help but grab and press it against his face.
"Genna, I feel awful." His voice was seductive and hoarse, and the way he looked at her was captivating.
If Ella didn't know what had happened at this point, she had lived her twenty-plus years in vain.
"I'll take you to the hospital."
"No."
Frustrated, Henry Russell gently pulled her into his arms, his nose poking her chin. "No need to go to the hospital, just having you is enough."
When Ella woke up, it was already noon.