[Margaret's Perspective]
By the time Ruth and I returned to the ward from the garden, Donald had already come by without my knowing. He was sitting on the sofa against the wall, holding a tablet in his hand, his handsome brows slightly furrowed as if he encountered some kind of difficulty.
"You're back?"
"When did you get here?"
Donald and I almost opened our mouths at the same time, our voices colliding in the air. I laughed and looked up at him, continuing to ask, "Is there some trouble again? Seeing you, your brows haven't relaxed these past few days. Is there anything I can help with?"
On hearing this, Donald stood up and walked over. He rested one hand on the armrest of the wheelchair and gently touched my face with the other, responding warmly, "It's all just minor things, I can handle them. Did you just go sunbathing in the garden? Your cheeks are red and flushed, looking like fresh apples."
