Ophelia didn't believe what she was seeing at first. She thought this was like the other time she had woken up after feeling someone touch her, but this time she was imagining Dante.
"I must still be unwell," Ophelia said, regretting she had not taken more medicine.
"You were sick?'
Hearing Dante's voice made Ophelia realise that this wasn't all in her head. She reached to poke his face and could not deny it
"No! I missed it," Ophelia said, disappointed she missed the return. "I tried to stay away. You must believe me."
"I do," Dante said, moving the rest of the fallen strands from Ophelia's face. "I feel better knowing that you were able to rest. Seeing you so comfortable in our bedchamber brings me peace."
Ophelia sat up, her gaze going to the dried blood on Dante's armour. "Are you injured?"
"No, it isn't my blood. I will get out of my armour and clean myself shortly-"
