?<strong>Chapter 825:</strong>


    Dulce shook her head, her eyes still closed, her hand pressed to her forehead. In that vulnerable state, emotions came flooding in, and the tears welled up without warning.


    She felt so weak, as if she might slip away, and a lingering thought crossed her mind—Michael didn’t really care enough to help her.


    She shouldn’t trouble Michael now.


    She shook her head, hot tears slipping down her cheeks.


    “I’m fine. Just need to sleep. You go ahead with your work.”


    Her throat burned with pain, and her voice was hoarse from just a single night of illness.


    Michael let out a heavy sigh and, without a word, removed his jacket and draped it over Dulce. “Sleep. I’ll stay here with you. Call me if you need anything.”


    Dulce kept her eyes shut, feeling utterly drained. She longed for rest but also felt an urge to clear the air with Michael. “I didn’t mean to. I’m really fine. You can go.”


    He didn’t have feelings for her. Why was he even bothering to care?


    Michael could tell she wanted him to leave, but he couldn’t shake his concern about leaving her alone in this state. After a long pause, he asked, “Should I call Johnny to stay with you?”


    Johnny Moreno, the technician who hade with Michael, had written Dulce’s name in his notes during the meeting and had lent her his jacket today. Michael couldn’t help but wonder if there was something between Dulce and Johnny.


    They were close in age, shared manymon interests, and Dulce seemed at ease with him.


    To Michael’s surprise, Dulce’s eyes shot open at the mention of Johnny. Her eyes were red and puffy, tears threatening to spill again.


    Michael immediately realized his mistake and quickly reassured her. “I won’t call Johnny. Just sleep, alright?”


    Dulce was too weak to respond with anything more than a sigh, her body aching for rest, hoping to recover quickly.


    Michael turned on the bus heater, his fingers fumbling as he asked the base staff to bring ice packs and a thermometer.


    Dulce slept for a little over an hour, her breathing steady, while Michael checked her temperature three times, gently waking her each time to help her swallow the medicine, her eyes barely open.


    Dulcey there in silence, her eyes closed, her pale lips sending a jolt through Michael, reminding him too much of Lacey before she had passed.


    Michael rarely let himself linger on such painful memories.


    Over the years, he had suppressed and buried that grief, but it always resurfaced like a jagged wound—lingering and sharp, tugging at his heart every time he thought of her.


    Sitting in the second-tost row, Michael rested his elbows on his knees, his hands covering his face.


    Maybe Adrian was right. He didn’t need to forget Lacey to start a new rtionship.


    There was something about Dulce that reminded him of Lacey.


    Could he love Dulce the way he had loved Lacey?


    The thought hit him like a cold wave, and Michael flinched.


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