Andrew stood by the window, his hand tightly gripping the window frame. It seemed that he was trying hard to restrain his anger. But he would glance at Queenie occasionally with eyes filled with compassion and pain.
This 20-year-old young man truly cared for Queenie.
At exactly 5:00 pm, the nurses changed their shifts. The attending nurse came over specifically to inform us that Queenie needed to eat something nutritious since she just had a miscarriage and had lost a lot of blood.
I had no idea what would be considered nutritious for her, nor did I understand how to take care of someone who had just miscarried. So, I thought about calling my mom for advice.
But Andrew stopped me. He insisted that I stayed with Queenie while he left to prepare some food at home. He said that his family had a dietician who would know what was best for Queenie.
I wanted to refuse, but there was nobody around who understood the situation. Even if I knew what would be the best food for Queenie, I wasn't sure I could prepare it properly. Ordering food outside wouldn't be the same as a home-cooked meal.
I decided not to refuse him for the sake of Queenie's health. I could always repay him in the future.
After Andrew left, the ward became so quiet that I could hear my own breathing.
The soft evening sunlight shone on Queenie's face, making her appear even paler and more fragile.
She had her eyes closed, but two drops of tears flowed down her temples and disappeared into her hair.
She had been controlling her emotions with Andrew around earlier. Now that he had gone back, she was letting herself cry freely.
"I took the medicine myself."
She spoke slowly after a while. She choked out the words, as if they were coming from the depths of hell. They were filled with desolation.
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