My Blind Husband

In truth, a pang of hunger gnawed at Cherise’s stomach.

The ordeal of last night’s car ride had sapped much of her energy.

She pressed her lips together and instructed, “Pop it in the fridge for me; I’ll eat it when I return.”

With a concerned glance, Frances slipped two packets of hot milk into Cherise’s bag. fearing she might grow famished on her way.

Cherise sipped on the warm milk, exiting the manor while settling into Mr. Kolson’s car.

Thirty minutes later, the vehicle pulled up at the research institute.

Just as before, upon stepping out of the car at the institute’s entrance, Cherise noticed her colleagues‘ furtive glances and hushed murmurs.

The unresolved plagiarism issue cast a pall over her interactions.

These silent judgments weighed heavily on Cherise’s spirits.

She hastened towards Heather’s usual workspace, milk in hand.

Heather had mentioned earlier that Mr. Whitlock sought to speak with her, prompting Cherise to head straight for his office.

door, Cherise caught the sound

registered the first

jolted her

Heather’s voice!

rushed forward, flinging open the director’s

sight that greeted her shook Cherise to her

white, sat nearby, delicately puncturing Heather’s blisters with

side, offering ointment

had echoed earlier had been Heather’s cries as her blisters were

are you doing?”

usually composed demeanor cracked at the sight.

did Yolanda deign to acknowledge her presence, her tone icy, “I’m attending to her wounds.”

Heather’s distress, unable to

“Indeed,”

is the special balm Ms. Weiss procured.

“Precisely,”

ointment from Mr. Whitlock and dabbing it onto Heather’s punctured blisters with a cotton swab. “It’s better to