Edwin quickly handed the tray over to Sylvia, a hopeful gleam in his eyes. “Hey, why don’t you take this up to Rupert? He’s been working all morning and hasn’t had a bite to eat.”
Sylvia glanced at the steaming bowl of soup, realizing she didn’t have much choice but to roll with it. “Alright,” she nodded, grabbing the tray and heading upstairs.
By the time she reached the door to Rupert’s room, her palms were slick with sweat. She hesitated for a moment, her heart pounding in her chest. Just then, a deep voice came from inside.
“Come in, Sylvia.”
The tray almost slipped from her grasp. Rupert had always made her feel invisible. How was she supposed to deal with him now? But she was determined. Even if she failed, she had to try.
Taking a deep breath, Sylvia nudged the door open. The room was minimalist, dominated by shades of gray. Soft light filtered through the sheer curtains, casting a gentle glow over Rupert as he lay there, one arm hooked up to an IV. The light softened his sharp features, giving him an unexpectedly approachable look, and Sylvia found herself unable to look away.
Rupert’s eyes flicked up to meet hers, pulling her from her reverie. Embarrassed at being caught staring, she quickly averted her gaze and approached the bed.
“I brought you your clothes from Edwin, and Orson asked me to bring you some food while I was at it.” She fumbled through the explanation.
Rupert’s voice was low and teasing. “Who asked you to explain yourself so quickly?”
Sylvia bit her lip, setting the tray down with a thud.
Rupert’s gaze drifted to the items on the tray, his eyes catching the pharmacy bag. “Skipped seeing Warren to bring me meds, did you?”
“That’s not it.” Sylvia reached for the bag, but Rupert’s hand was quicker.
“I’m hungry.” He glanced at the soup.
Sylvia offered the bowl. “Here.”
Rupert raised his IV-free hand slightly. “I’m a bit tied up here.”
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