Chapter 117

Summer stopped talking, and Logan put down his hand, taking the bowl from her.

Although he was dizzy with fever, his whole body aching and weak, and his mouth bitter with no appetite, he knew he needed to eat. Without food, his recovery would take even longer.

He picked up the spoon and took a few sips of porridge. Suddenly, he spoke, "Thank you."

Since his mother passed away, no one had cared for him like this.

He rarely got sick, and when he did, he managed on his own. If he had medicine, he took it. If not, he drank hot water and toughed it out.

Summer remained by his bedside.

She didn't delve into emotions or sentiments, speaking lightly, "It's no big deal. Just take care of me next time I get sick."

Logan glanced at Summer upon hearing this.

Lowering his eyes to his porridge again, he remarked, "Who wishes sickness upon themselves?"

Summer responded nonchalantly, "Everyone gets sick now and then. It's normal."

Their relationship was always straightforward and transparent.

Logan didn't continue the topic, finishing his porridge quickly.

Seeing him finish, Summer, mindful of his weakened state, took the bowl from him without saying more and went to the kitchen to wash it. She returned with a water kettle.

Logan watched her actions through his hazy vision.

Summer placed the bowl on the table beside his bed, filled it with hot water, and handed it to him. "Drink this while it's hot. After that, get some more rest. I've fed your chickens and will handle today's lessons. The kettle is here if you need more water."

Logan stared at her for a moment.

Summer noticed his daze and pushed the bowl closer, reminding him, "Take it."

Logan lowered his gaze, took the bowl, and drank.

The water was hot, the bowl was hot, his body was hot, and his heart felt warm.

Summer hadn't eaten breakfast yet.

Logan had taken his medicine, eaten, and drunk hot water, so she left his room after reminding him to rest well.

Logan watched her leave, closing the door behind her.

After a moment, he finished the water, placed the bowl on the table, took off his coat, and lay down.

His fever was still high, and the pain was evident.

Lying there, he blinked slowly, memories of his mother and Summer's care filling his mind.

***

The morning was nearly over.

Summer hurriedly finished her breakfast, cleaned up, and rushed to the school. She caught her breath in the office before ringing the bell for the morning class, starting her day.

Fewer kids came to school today.

The ones who were already sick hadn't returned, and two more were absent.

Summer taught her classes, informing the students of Logan's illness and reading them stories or assigning independent work. She was available for any questions they had.

Despite Logan taking his fever medication, Summer was still concerned about him.

Fevers could be serious, and if it persisted, it wouldn't be a minor issue.

So, during the break after two classes, Summer went back to check on Logan.

She quietly opened his door, peeking in to see Logan asleep, resting deeply.

Rest and sleep were crucial for someone with a fever.

Summer moved quietly to avoid disturbing him.

She gently placed a hand on his forehead, feeling his temperature.

It was much better than in the morning.

Relieved, she retracted her hand, turned quietly, and left the room, closing the door softly.

Logan opened his eyes, glancing at the door.

***

Assured that Logan's fever was subsiding, Summer returned to the school in time for the next class. She picked up her teaching materials and continued the day's lessons.

The sun rose higher.

The children left the school in orderly lines.

After seeing everyone off, Summer locked the office and returned to the nearby dormitory.

The dormitory's proximity was convenient for quick returns.

Summer went back to check on Logan first.

Not knowing if he was awake, she quietly pushed open his door, planning to assess the situation before deciding what to do.