Just A Fever Dream?

“Superstar Ailine Su Rushed to the Hospital!”

“Fans Panic: What Really Happened?”

“Management Silent as Rumors Spiral.”

Ailine stared at her phone screen, scrolling through the endless list of headlines—every media outlet seemed to be in a frenzy. It felt as if the entire Country Z had collectively decided to worry about her at the same time.

“Haishh… out of all my gorgeous photos, this was the one they chose?” she muttered in disbelief, pinching her cheek. “This angle makes me look chubby! My cheeks aren’t supposed to be this round!”

She opened the front camera, tilting her face left and right like an actress evaluating her own poster, pursing her lips dramatically before puffing her cheeks out like a pufferfish.

“Eh? Did I actually gain weight? Ugh… I really need to go on a diet!”

The door flew open with a bang.

“GOOD HEAVENS, MISS AILINE!” Emma stormed into the room, juggling a paper bag from the cafeteria and pure exasperation on her face. “You wake up and the first thing you do is check your phone? Did you forget you fainted last night? You’re sick!”

Before Ailine could protest, Emma swooped down and snatched the phone from her grasp, placing it firmly on the bedside table as if confiscating a dangerous weapon.

“Emmaaa! I’m already better, okay? Give it back!”

“How could you be better when you were admitted just a few hours ago?”

“Tch, I’m fine! Look—I’m even on an IV!” Ailine proudly lifted her hand as if the catheter were a badge of honor. “Anyway! My cheeks… look! Like actual steamed buns!”

Emma slapped her forehead, muttering prayers for patience. Ailine, without fail, remained Ailine—forever obsessed with her appearance, especially her weight.

“For heaven’s sake, please stop thinking about how you look! You’re 45 kilos at 168 centimeters! That’s underweight!”

“45.2,” Ailine corrected with admirable seriousness.

“That’s even worse!”

“Tch, I just… I’m not used to being bigger. I won’t look pretty.”

Emma inhaled deeply, the kind of inhale that suggests the soul is trying to leave the body to avoid unnecessary stress. Arguing with this stubborn superstar was an endurance sport.

Moments later, the morning nurse entered with a small trolley of medical tools.

“Good morning, Miss Su,” she greeted warmly before checking Ailine’s temperature, blood pressure, and giving her the scheduled injections.

After jotting down notes, she said, “Your temperature is 36.5°C. Your abdominal ultrasound will be at nine o’clock.”

Ailine perked up immediately, like a flower exposed to sunlight. “See? My temperature is normal! That means I’m healed!”

The nurse smiled gently. “A normal temperature doesn’t mean full recovery. You still need rest.”

Emma crossed her arms smugly. “Hear that? Superstar of Country Z.”

Ailine puffed her cheeks. “Superstar what? You didn’t even recognize me when you came in…”

The nurse giggled, eyes sparkling with admiration. “If you could hear my thoughts right now, I’m actually screaming. I can’t believe the superstar is right in front of me.”

“Eh? Really? Then why didn’t you ask for a photo?”

“C-Can I…?”

“Of course! Just don’t upload it online.”

“Yes, ma’am!”

“But wait—I look terrible. Emma! Powder! Lip balm!”

“Miss Su,” the nurse chuckled, “even without makeup, you’re already beautiful. And phone cameras make everyone look pretty nowadays. You’ll look fine.”

To her, Ailine Su didn’t need filters. She was already breathtaking—like the universe had taken its time sculpting her.

“…True,” Ailine conceded with a prim nod. “Alright, let’s take a photo.”

They took several—Ailine, of course, adjusted her angle each time until satisfied.

After the mini photoshoot, the nurse added, “The doctor who treated you last night will be doing rounds again soon, together with the internal medicine doctor who’ll take over your care.”

Ailine’s entire expression shifted.

Owen.

A quiet spark lit in her chest. She quickly reached for her mirror, smoothing her hair, applying just the slightest tint on her lips, dusting her cheeks with powder.

Emma raised one brow. “Miss Ailine… you really can’t let even a single person see you looking anything less than perfect, huh?”

“What? I’m a famous actress. Looking good is a must.”

Emma rolled her eyes but couldn’t help smiling. This was simply how Ailine Su functioned.

The door opened.

And Owen stepped inside.

Ailine froze mid-breath. Her heart didn’t just skip—it practically tripped down a flight of stairs. With Emma still busy with paperwork, only the two of them remained in the room.

“Good morning, Miss Su,” Owen greeted, voice steady and cool. “How are you feeling today? Any new complaints?”

He examined her calmly, fingers firm, movements precise—the epitome of professionalism.

“Just… a little nausea. And the stomach pain… it comes and goes.”

“I see.”

Silence lingered between each step of the check-up. Ailine swallowed, gathering courage.

“Doctor Young… um…” She hesitated. “Last night… did you…”

Owen looked at her, his eyes unreadable behind the mask. “Yes?”

“Did you… come to see me? Did you check on me?”

For the briefest of seconds, something flickered in his gaze. A hesitation. A thought he swallowed back.

Then he spoke, voice low and controlled:

“You must have been dreaming due to your high fever.”

“…Dreaming?”

“It’s common for patients with fever to hallucinate. Imagining things that didn’t happen. Seeing people who weren’t there.”

The explanation was flawless. Too flawless. And far too detached.

A tiny ache lodged itself in her chest. She hated how ridiculous it felt—but the disappointment was real.

Before she could ask more, another voice entered the room.

“Good morning! I’m Dr. Lisa,” the internal medicine specialist said warmly. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Su—you're even more beautiful in person.”

Dr. Lisa’s friendliness softened the tension hanging in the air. Ailine responded with a perfect, practiced smile—one she had mastered long ago.

After discussing her condition briefly, it was time for the ultrasound.

Ailine was settled into the wheelchair. Emma followed beside her, while the nurse pushed gently from behind.

Yet Ailine’s gaze refused to leave Owen and Dr. Lisa walking side by side down the corridor.

Close.

Comfortable.

Professional… yet there was something soft in the air between them.

The nurse leaned slightly closer, whispering:

“They’re very close. Some staff say they’re dating. They’ve never admitted it… but they never deny it either.”

Ailine froze.

Then lowered her gaze.

Her hand moved on instinct, pressing lightly against her chest, as if something inside had cracked.

It hurt.

Not her stomach.

Not her illness.

But somewhere far deeper—somewhere a decade-old wound still lay quietly waiting to bleed again.