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Nikola’s POV

“I’m sick, Peter,” I state, in the case that that wasn’t exceedingly obvious.

“I-I-I know,” he replies as he steps inside. His white fluffy bunny was in his arms and there was a large backpack strapped to his back that was twice his size. He looked about ready to move in. I shudder at the thought. “T-T-That’s why I’m here. T-To take c-care of you.”

I close my eyes if only to hide my annoyance from Peter’s view. It would likely make him cry, and I did not need the Heil-Calderon’s ire for trampling on the feelings of their most beloved.

“I do not need you to take care of me, Peter,” I say as patiently as I can, given that my throat feels like gravel layered with sand. “Now, can you leave and not return?”