Forsythia Brown knelt beside the bed for a long time, lying on top of it, quietly watching him.
His eyebrows and handsome features were still the same, even after enduring so many tribulations. But he knew how to keep himself in the best condition, conserving his strength in preparation for the next treatment.
With each treatment, like a butterfly emerging from its chrysalis, he would be reborn anew.
"Gem Atkinson, you promised me you would be all right."
"You also promised your little treasure that you'd be all right."
"Last winter was the first you spent with your little treasure. So, please, make sure it's not the last one, okay?"
"Who holds my hand, calming my half-life of madness; who kisses my eyes, shielding me from a half-life of wandering; who touches my face, soothing my half-life of sorrow; who takes my heart, melting a half-life of frost; who supports my shoulder, driving away a lifetime of silence. Who calls to my heart, hiding a lifetime of disgrace..."
