The car glided along the winding coastal road, the sun dipping low over the Hawaiian horizon. Isabella sat quietly beside Elijah, her hand pressed lightly against her stomach. The ache had started gradually, but now it was sharp enough to make her wince.
"Elijah…" she murmured, her voice tight. "I don't feel so good…"
He immediately turned to her, concern written across his face. "Isabella, what's wrong?"
She shook her head weakly. "My stomach… I think I might be sick."
Without hesitation, Elijah shifted the seatbelt to help her lean against him and carefully lifted her into his arms when the ache intensified. Isabella felt both embarrassed and comforted as he held her close — the way he carried her made her feel protected, secure, and cared for.
"Don't worry, I've got you," he said softly, his hand rubbing gentle circles on her back. "Just focus on breathing. We'll be at the house in no time."
The ride seemed shorter with him holding her. Every bump in the road, every turn, Elijah kept her steady, whispering soothing words. By the time they arrived at the small vacation home, Isabella was pale but relieved.
Elijah gently set her down near the bathroom, his strong hands still supporting her. She barely made it before bending over the sink. After a few moments, she straightened, shaky but calmer.
"I think it's just… probably the food from the restaurant," she said, trying to sound casual, even as a faint ache lingered.
Elijah smiled softly, brushing a loose strand of hair from her face. "If that's all it was, then I'm glad it's over. But next time, no more mystery meals without me checking them first," he teased lightly, though his eyes were full of care.
Isabella laughed weakly, leaning back against him. Even in this uncomfortable moment, she felt an overwhelming sense of warmth and safety. With Elijah by her side, even a sick moment could be handled with ease — and that realization made her heart flutter more than the tropical breeze ever could.