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The rain tapped a steady, rhythmic beat against the windowpane, a stark contrast to the quiet warmth inside their humble home. But for the first time in a long time, the silence felt heavy. Uneasy.
Daisy sat on the floor, stacking colorful blocks with two-year-old Lily, but her eyes kept drifting toward the kitchen.
Luigi stood by the stove, stirring a pot of soup. But his movements were wrong. They were sluggish, lacking that cheerful bounce he always had when he cooked. His shoulders, usually broad and dependable, seemed to curve inward, as if holding up the weight of the ceiling was finally taking its toll.
Lily knocked over the tower of blocks with a squeal of delight, but Luigi didn’t turn around. He didn’t chuckle. He didn't say, “Mamma mia!” in that playful tone that always made Lily giggle.
He just kept stirring.
Daisy frowned, a knot of worry tightening in her stomach. She stood up, dusting off her jeans, and walked into the kitchen. As she got closer, she could hear it... the jagged intake of breath, the faint tremor in his hand as it gripped the wooden spoon.
“Luigi?”
He jumped, nearly dropping the spoon into the pot. He spun around, a forced smile plastered on his face, but it didn't reach his eyes. His eyes were glassy, swimming with exhaustion, and his usually pale skin was flushed a deep, alarming red.
“Hey, Daisy,” he rasped, his voice sounding like gravel. “Dinner’s almost ready. Just… just need a few more minutes.”
He turned back to the stove, but he swayed, his hand gripping the counter for support.
Daisy moved before she even thought about it. She closed the distance between them and placed her hand on his forehead. The heat radiating from him was intense, burning against her cool palm.
“Luigi, you’re burning up,” she said, her voice dropping to a whisper.
He leaned away, shaking his head weakly. “It’s just a little cold. I’m fine. I just need to finish this…”
“No,” Daisy said firmly. She reached out and took the spoon from his hand, setting it on the counter. Then, she took his hands in hers. They were trembling. “You are not fine. You’re done.”
“But… you and Lily need to eat,” he argued, though the fight was already leaving his body. “I haven’t folded the laundry yet, and the floor needs—”
“Luigi,” she cut him off, squeezing his hands. “Stop.”
He looked at her, his eyes wide and vulnerable, filled with a guilt that Daisy recognized all too well. It was the same guilt that had eaten her alive two years ago.
The fear of not doing enough, of being a burden.
“I’m supposed to take care of you,” he mumbled, his gaze dropping to the floor.
Daisy felt her heart clench. For years, he had been the rock. He had been the one to hold her when she shattered, the one to cook the meals and dry the tears and keep their world spinning when she couldn’t.
Now, it was her turn.
“You always take care of us,” she said softly, lifting a hand to cup his fevered cheek. “Let me take care of you for once.”
Luigi leaned into her touch, his eyes fluttering shut. The tension in his frame finally snapped, and he sagged against her. Daisy wrapped her arms around his waist, holding him up, feeling the damp heat of his fever soak through his shirt.
“Okay,” he whispered, surrendering.
She guided him to the bedroom, his steps heavy and uncoordinated. Daisy helped him out of his shoes and tucked him under the thick quilt. He shivered, curling into himself, looking smaller than she had ever seen him.
“Rest,” she commanded gently, brushing a damp lock of hair from his forehead.
Daisy left the door cracked open and returned to the living room. Lily was still playing with her blocks, unbothered by the storm outside. Daisy scooped her up, pressing a kiss to the toddler’s soft cheek.
“Daddy’s sick, Lil,” she murmured. “We have to be quiet, okay?”
Lily blinked her big blue eyes and nodded solemnly. “Quiet.”
Daisy smiled. She moved to the kitchen, turning off the stove and dishing out the soup Luigi had started. She fed Lily, bathed her, and put her to bed with a story, her movements smooth and sure. There was no panic, no overwhelming dread like there used to be. Just a quiet confidence.
She could do this. She was doing this.
Once the house was truly silent, Daisy prepared a tray. It had a bowl of broth, a glass of water, and medicine. She crept back into the bedroom. The only light came from the hallway, casting long shadows across the bed.
Luigi was awake, staring blankly at the ceiling. When he saw her, he tried to sit up, but Daisy gently pushed him back down.
“Stay,” she said. She sat on the edge of the bed and placed the tray on the nightstand. “Drink this.”
He obeyed, taking the water with shaking hands. Daisy steadied the glass for him. After he took the medicine, he looked at her, his expression pained.
“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice barely audible over the rain.
Daisy paused, setting the glass down. “What are you sorry for?”
“For being… useless,” he breathed. “I ruined the night. You had to do everything.”
Daisy felt a sting of tears, not from sadness, but from an overwhelming surge of love. She climbed onto the bed, crawling over the covers until she was curled up beside him. She rested her head on his chest, careful not to put too much weight on him.
“You remember when Lily was born?” she asked softly, tracing a pattern on his shirt. “When I couldn’t get out of bed? When I couldn’t stop crying?”
Luigi’s arm came around her, weak but present. “Yeah.”
“You told me that needing time didn’t make me useless,” she reminded him. “You told me that strength isn’t about never breaking. It’s about showing up.”
She lifted her head to look him in the eye.
“You show up every single day, Luigi. You carry this whole family on your back. It’s okay to put the load down for a minute. We’re not going to fall.”
Luigi stared at her, his defenses crumbling. A single tear tracked through the flush on his cheek. “I just… I hate seeing you have to work so hard.”
“I’m not working,” Daisy said, wiping his tear away with her thumb. “I’m loving you. There’s a difference.”
A small, genuine smile finally broke through his exhaustion. He pulled her closer, burying his face in her hair.
“Thank you,” he whispered into the crown of her head.
“Go to sleep,” she murmured, closing her eyes and listening to the steady, comforting thrum of his heartbeat. “I’ve got us. I promise.”
And as Luigi finally drifted off, his breathing deepening into sleep, Daisy knew it was true. The storm could rage outside all it wanted. In here, she would keep him warm.