CHAPTER 178: CHAPTER-178

Kaya rolled her eyes at him. And of course, even that hurt too much. Her eyes throbbed, her head ached, and her body felt like it had been crushed under the weight of this cursed cold.

She tried to speak again—only to feel her throat sting, her voice refusing to come out.

Seeing her struggle, the idiot—yes, her idiot—hurried toward the second stove where he had kept something warm. Without even bothering to check, he grabbed the pot.

A sharp hiss of pain.

"Ouch, ouch, ouch!" he yelped.

But instead of dropping it, he still held onto the damn hot soil bowl like a lunatic. He poured the steaming liquid into a wooden glass with shaking hands. Then, as he placed the burning pot down—on his brow of all places—he flinched, cursing again,

"Ouch, ouch—damn it!"

Waving his hand like mad, he rubbed his now-red fingers against his coat sleeve.

And still, he turned to her. His face a little scrunched, but he held out the bowl.

"Here," he muttered, like nothing had happened.

Kaya looked at the steaming bowl... then at his fingers, now red and puffed up.

She slowly raised her hand, reaching out to take the bowl. But just as her fingers brushed its edge, Veer pulled it back with a frown.

"Are you an idiot? Can’t you see how hot it is?" he scolded.

Kaya blinked, stunned. Who’s the idiot that grabbed the burning bowl with his bare hands in the first place? she wanted to say. But of course, her voice still wouldn’t come out. It stayed stuck in her throat like the air itself refused to move.

Veer let out a sigh, muttering under his breath, and quickly grabbed a cloth from the side. He wrapped it around the bowl with practiced hands and gently offered it to her again.

She took it this time.

The warmth from the bowl seeped into her palms through the fabric—comforting, steady. She raised it to her lips and took a small sip.

The water was warm. It slid down her aching throat slowly, melting the dryness, the scratchiness, the pain. A soft exhale left her lips as a bit of the tightness in her chest loosened.

She felt... slightly light. Just a little bit better.

Her gaze drifted back to Veer.

He was already at the stove again, stirring whatever was cooking in the pot, as if he hadn’t just burned his fingers or scolded her like a stubborn child. His back was slightly hunched, his shoulders moving in rhythm with the spoon.

As Veer took out his spoon and reached for the bowl on the stovel, Kaya noticed—again—he was going to use his bare hands.

She froze.

Even against her aching, frightened body, she pushed herself to move. Slipping down from the bed, her feet hit the ground—and it felt like they had just been whipped raw and then told to walk. The pain surged like fire licking her nerves.

Still, she walked. Slowly, stubbornly.

When she reached Veer, she gently smacked the back of his head with her hand, silent and firm. A small act of protest.

Veer flinched and clutched the spot, turning to her with a confused expression. "What are you?" he asked, baffled.

Kaya didn’t answer. Instead, she nudged him aside with a faint push and reached for the rag she’d left earlier. Wrapping it around her hand, she carefully picked up the steaming bowl and set it on the ground.

Without a word, she took the spoon and stirred the contents. It looked like soup—brothy, filled with wilted wild vegetables and what seemed like herbs.

She reached for two wooden bowls, placed them beside the pot, and slowly began to ladle the soup into each, her movements quiet, controlled.

Veer grabbed both bowls before Kaya could say a word.

"What are you doing?" he snapped, eyes narrowing. "I told you to rest. What the hell?"

Before she could blink, he placed the bowls down and swiftly scooped her up into a princess carry.

Kaya let out a gasp.

"Veer

—!"

She wanted to yell, maybe even land a weak punch to his shoulder. But honestly? She didn’t have the strength. Her arms just flopped against his chest, defeated.

He carried her like she weighed nothing and gently laid her back onto the bed. Pulling the hide over her, he leaned in, pressing his forehead against hers for a moment to check her temperature.

"Mm," he muttered, half to himself. "Slightly better."

Then without missing a beat, he walked back to fetch the two bowls and wooden spoons. He returned with careful steps, placing one of the bowls on the small table nearby, and sat beside her with the other in hand.

Scooping up a spoonful of the warm, earthy broth, he lifted it toward her mouth.

But Kaya didn’t open her mouth. Instead, she stared at him—dead serious, red-rimmed eyes sharp as a blade.

Veer froze.

"...Come on, darling," he said, dragging out the word dramatically, voice switching to that teasing tone he knew she hated when sick. "You’re already sick. Let’s not add starvation to the list, hmm?"

He tilted the spoon forward, inching it closer to her lips, while his body swayed slightly, exaggerating a shy, playful pose like a schoolboy pretending to flirt. "We can do the whole tough warrior act later, okay?"

Kaya’s eye twitched.

Anyway, who doesn’t like being cared for when sick?

Kaya lowered her gaze, then quietly opened her mouth.

Veer blinked, caught completely off guard as she accepted the spoon without protest.

Wait... she’s really eating?

He had been half-joking, just teasing her to lighten the mood—but now, watching her actually take the bite, something in his chest jolted. His fingers froze for a beat, still holding the spoon mid-air even after it was empty.

Meanwhile, Kaya glanced up at him, tilting her head slightly as if to say, What?

That look—soft, confused, so unlike her usual defiance—sent a strange wave through him.

Veer quickly turned his head, ears burning red.