Elliot gritted his teeth and gazed coldly at her.
He placed the bowl of oatmeal down and helped her up. Then he arranged two pillows behind her for her to lean against.
He placed the bowl back into her hands.
Avery accepted the oatmeal, but, as she was about to pick the spoon up, her left hand that was holding the bowl suddenly fell limp and powerless. Her hands shook, tipping the bowl onto the covers.
Everything spilled.
Avery looked at the spilled oatmeal in shock. She pursed her lips.
Elliot’s heart broke at the sight. She had not done it on purpose. He knew that she had not done it on purpose. Avery truly wanted to eat on her own, but she lacked the strength needed to even hold a bowl.
Before Avery's tears could fall, Elliot bundled the dirty covers away.
"Avery, you will get better. Don't cry!" He had intended to comfort her, but what came out sounded more like a stern lecture.
He took a deep breath, wanting to explain, but Avery had already laid back down with her back turned toward him.
Elliot did not hear Avery crying, but he knew that she was.
He took a fresh duvet from the closet and covered her with it.
"I'll get the nanny to cook another bowl for you," Elliot said in a low, depressive tone. He sat by the side of the bed, gazing at the back of her head.
Avery shut her eyes and said nothing. She suddenly felt extremely dizzy. It was probably due to the loss of blood.
Once she fell asleep, Elliot exited the room.
He had not slept last night, and now his head hurt terribly.
He entered his room and caught up on some sleep.
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