"Miss Sanders, Mr. Aiden heard that you were ill and asked me to come and check on you. If there's anything you need help with, you can let me know."
The old waiter carried a fruit basket and several expensive tonics, walking towards Clara Sanders.
His old eyes scanned the reporter standing by Clara's sickbed, his eyebrows wrinkling ever so slightly.
And then, it returned to normal.
"Thank you for Mr. Aiden's concern, I'm fine..." Clara saw the old waiter and was startled. She hurriedly gestured to the junior reporter to leave first.
The junior reporter was a smart person and knew that the timing was wrong. He hurriedly gave an apologetic smile.
"Thank you for sparing me, Miss Sanders. I won't bother you while you rest. Here's my phone number. Whenever you are willing to be interviewed, you're welcome to contact me."
The junior reporter wrote his phone number on the hospital's notebook and quickly exited the hospital room.
