“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.

him on the bedside table,

turned to leave,

her tracks and turned

soup.” Tyrone glanced at his right hand, which

soup on the bedside table to his left, placing a

his

shaky spoonful toward his lips, only for it to splash onto the

cautioned, wiping up

tremble, more soup droplets staining the quilt. When it finally

watch him struggle, Sabrina took over, stating,

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