He knew now that he'd been a fool.
Gaignun Kukai had ignored the presence of the migraines at first, attributing them to overwork. Then he'd had to cover up blackout episodes from his family and employees. There'd been days were he didn't know where he was or how he'd gotten there.
Now his head felt like molten iron, oppressive and searing. This wasn't him. This was something that wanted him to withdraw from the pain, to relinquish control.
His grip on his being slipped as something else pushed him aside to settle behind his eyes.
He should have told someone.