Sylvan Cheney's hospital room was a private single room, where sunshine streamed in through the half-drawn curtains, casting light on the floor and the bedsheets.
The weather was nice today, the lazy sun hanging in the east, its rays not too harsh.
When Jasmine Yale appeared at the door of the hospital room carrying a thermal container, Charles Mcintosh was taken aback.
She lifted her watery eyes to look at Charles Mcintosh, "Mr. Mcintosh, hello."
Charles Mcintosh's eyes hardened, "Miss Yale, why have you come back?"
He mentioned it had been nearly two years since he had last seen Jasmine Yale.
Now, seeing her again, she was still her usual self, radiant and even more beautiful than before.
A light yellow coat complemented her tender, fair skin, and a slight movement of her lips revealed two shallow dimples.
"I heard Mr. Cheney was ill."
