The sumr morning carried a faint scent of fresh grass. As the sun rose, its rays trickled through the gaps in the leaves, tendrils entwined. The morning breeze felt nice.
The leaves were covered with dew, swaying as the wind blew.
A slight mist lingered in the breeze, gradually dissipating as the sun rose in the east.
Jasmine Yale’s ward was on the third floor, at a moderate height, with a view through the window of the green trees and grassy fields outside.
This kind of morning was full of vitality and spirit.
Green is the most exuberant color, and wherever the eyes reached, there was brightness.
Sylvan Cheney woke up early.
He was standing by the window when Jasmine Yale had not yet woken up.
She seed so very tired. Ever since she fell asleep last night, she hadn’t woken up. Even when the nurse removed her IV, she didn’t wake.
However, the paleness on her face had faded, replaced by so redness in her cheeks.
Sylvan Cheney stood by the window, silently looking out at the vast scenery.
All around, it was quiet and still.
At so unknown ti, Jasmine Yale moved her fingers, trying to open her weary eyes.
A beam of light shone into the ward, very dazzling.
Instinctively, she touched her belly.
The baby is still there...
As if a weight had been lifted, she sighed softly and looked towards the window.
The man in the white shirt stood in the sunlight, clean and tall. Backlit, his side profile was angular and distinct: a high, straight nose and tightly pressed thin lips, with one button unfastened at his collar.
He just stood there, frowning, as if deep in thought, or perhaps just gazing at the scene outside the window.
He wasn’t too far from her, and she watched him for a long ti after she opened her eyes.
Her eyelashes fluttered and then lowered.
Perhaps he heard sothing, and Sylvan Cheney turned around.
"Awake?"
Jasmine Yale didn’t speak, wanting to sit up.
"What do you want? I’ll get it for you." Sylvan Cheney held her hand, preventing her from moving erratically.
The pain had vanished, but the fatigue remained. Jasmine Yale didn’t feel like talking, so she shook her head without making a sound.
"Jasmine," Sylvan Cheney called her na sowhat awkwardly, still pressing her hand gently, "Feeling any better?"
His hoarse voice was as warm as always, a stark contrast to the man who was drunk last night.
Jasmine Yale’s eyelashes hung low, avoiding his gaze, simply trying to pull her hand away.
Although the baby was still there, she hadn’t forgotten his excessive behavior last night.
"Hungry? There’s breakfast."
She still didn’t speak.
"I’ll feed you so. Last ti, you seed to like red bean porridge, so I bought it for you. Of course, there’s other stuff too." Sylvan Cheney released her hand and prepared to get the breakfast.
"Sylvan Cheney." She suddenly called his na.
"Hmm?" Sylvan Cheney paused, focusing his gaze on her.
Jasmine Yale didn’t look at him; her eyes fell on the view outside.
Outside, the scenery was really nice.
Everything was nice.
"You should go." She said plainly.
Sylvan Cheney was stunned for a mont, but for so reason, his heart suddenly ached sharply.
You should go...
He withdrew his gaze, lowered his head, and continued with the breakfast.
He took out a steaming bowl of red bean porridge, opened it, and sat by the bedside: "I’ll feed you so porridge. It’s been a night, you must be hungry."
"I don’t want to eat."
"No way." Sylvan Cheney frowned, "Even if you don’t want it, your baby does."
Jasmine Yale was startled, a mistiness spreading in her eyes.
This ti, she didn’t argue back.
Sylvan Cheney scooped a spoonful of red bean porridge, blew on it to cool it down, and fed it to her.
Jasmine Yale moved her lips and ate it.
The sweet and glutinous taste was aromatic yet not cloying.
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