When Lina went limp in his arms, a horrible dread washed over Kaden. He glanced vehemently at the report on the bed. He tossed the papers to the ground and decided it'd serve better as fireplace fuel.
Out of pure guilt, Kaden could do nothing, but keep her warm the entire night. She laid in bed like a corpse. She didn't snore. Didn't struggle. At times, he had to check if she was still breathing. The only indication of her fatigue was her brows, occasionally wrinkling together. He could practically see the gears turning in her head.
When the sun peeked through the cloud, Kaden slipped out of bed. At the crack of dawn, he began to make her a large assortment of breakfast from all around the world. He made french toast, crepes, pancakes, porridges, eggs in every form possible, an array of bread, pudding, and the list went on. Everything he could think of, he began to cook.
"What do you think the Master did…"
