“Nothing really.”

“Even if you’re not hungry, you still need to eat. You’re recovering, remember? And you’ve always had that stomach issue..

Her words trailed off abruptly.

They were divorced.

She shouldn’t have brought that up.

The room fell into silence. For three years, she had reminded him not to miss meals, out of concern for his wellbeing. She feared work would make him forget to eat, so she frequently joined him in his office for meals.

That wouldn’t happen anymore. No more tender words, no more shared meals.

aside half the food for him on the bedside

leave, panic seized

her tracks and turned

glanced at his right hand, which had an IV

table to his left, placing a spoon in the bowl.

his left hand to eat with

He dipped the spoon in, lifting a shaky spoonful toward his lips, only for it to splash onto the quilt. “Could you pass me

cautioned, wiping up the spill with a

spoonful, another tremble, more soup droplets staining the quilt. When it finally reached his

watch him struggle, Sabrina

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