When Jasmine Yale came out after showering, Sylvan Cheney was already asleep.
She walked over to look at him; he was sleeping soundly, breathing evenly, his features composed and handsome.
Jasmine Yale shook her head helplessly.
Afraid of disturbing his sleep, she went to the bathroom to blow dry her hair.
By the time everything was settled, it was already past one in the morning.
This was the quietest, most serene time of the night, when everything was silent, utterly still.
Everything was quietly at peace.
Jasmine Yale, tired to the point of her eyelids drooping, with a painful waist, sat by the bed to tuck Sylvan Cheney in.
However, just as her fingers touched his body, he grabbed her hand, his eyes half-open, voice hoarse and low, "Don't go, I'm not feeling well…"
"Where are you uncomfortable? Do you need medicine? Is it a headache?"
"Mm…"
"I told you not to… Never mind, I'll get the medicine for you, just take it obediently."
"Mm."
