Hirvan followed Lu Hanbing down the short stretch of hallway toward the next room. His steps were slow, careful, the soft fabric of his hospital slippers whispering against the polished floor. He didn't rush, partly because his body still felt weak, and partly because his chest felt oddly tight the closer they got. He hadn't planned what to say. He wasn't even sure what he should say.
Lu Hanbing stopped in front of the door and pushed it open gently.
Inside, the atmosphere was noticeably warm. Elian sat propped up against the raised head of the bed, his back supported by pillows. His complexion was better than Hirvan had expected, though his movements were stiff, careful. Mrs Smith sat beside him, holding a small plate of cut fruit in one hand and a fork in the other. She was in the middle of lifting a piece of pineapple toward Elian's mouth.
Hirvan hesitated at the doorway.
"Dad," he called, the word slipping out awkwardly, as if he wasn't quite used to it yet.
