Chapter 3: Home and Bedridden

Phryne trudged through her front door, feeling defeated and exhausted. Her cold had taken a turn for the worse, and she was starting to realize that she might not be as fine as she thought. As she entered her living room, she was greeted by the warm glow of the afternoon sun streaming through the windows. She longed to collapse onto the couch, but first, she needed to get out of her damp, travel-worn clothes and into something more comfortable. Phryne made her way to her bedroom, shedding her coat and shoes as she went. She slipped into a soft, cotton nightgown and crawled into bed, surrounded by a mountain of tissues and handkerchiefs. As she settled under the covers, she let out a deep sigh, feeling the weight of her cold finally catching up with her. Despite her best efforts, Phryne couldn't shake the feeling that she was letting Jack and the case down. She had always prided herself on being a capable and independent investigator, and now she felt like she was being forced to take a step back. As she drifted off to sleep, she insisted to herself that she would be fine by morning, that a good night's rest would cure her of her sniffles and sneezes. The next morning, Phryne woke up feeling a bit worse for wear. Her throat was sore, and her chest felt tight. She coughed, a deep, hacking sound that made her wince. She was not fine. As she swung her legs over the side of the bed, Phryne's head spun, and she felt a wave of dizziness wash over her. She took a few deep breaths, trying to calm herself down, and slowly got out of bed. Phryne shuffled to the bathroom, her eyes red and puffy from lack of sleep. She splashed some water on her face, trying to wake herself up, and then made her way to the kitchen to make some tea. As she waited for the kettle to boil, she couldn't help but think about the case and how much she wanted to get back to work. Just as she was pouring herself a cup of tea, Phryne's phone rang. It was Jack. "Phryne, how are you feeling today?" he asked, his voice a bit gruff. Phryne took a deep breath, trying to sound more confident than she felt. "I'm fine, Jack. Just a bit...rested. I'm ready to get back to work." There was a pause on the other end of the line, and Phryne could almost hear Jack's skepticism. "Phryne, are you sure? You sounded a bit...congested yesterday. Maybe you should take it easy today?" Phryne bristled at the suggestion, but a part of her knew that Jack was right. She was not fine. But she was determined to prove him wrong. "I'm fine, Jack. I promise. I'll meet you at the station in an hour." As she hung up the phone, Phryne let out a coughing fit, her chest heaving with the effort. She wasn't fine. She was a mess. But she was determined to push through, no matter what. With a newfound sense of resolve, Phryne finished her tea, grabbed her bag, and headed out the door. She would show Jack that she was still a force to be reckoned with, even with a cold. As she walked to the station, Phryne's coughing fits became more frequent, and she found herself gasping for breath. She was determined to see the case through, but her body seemed to have other plans. When she arrived at the station, Jack looked at her with a mixture of concern and exasperation. "Phryne, I think you should go home," he said firmly. "You're not well, and I won't have you collapsing on me in the middle of the case." Phryne opened her mouth to protest, but a loud coughing fit interrupted her. She covered her mouth with her hand, feeling a sense of defeat wash over her. Maybe, just maybe, she wasn't as fine as she thought.