Today is the day Nicholas Drake is being discharged from the hospital.
He wanted to see her one more time before he left.
Aubree Groove poured a cup of warm water, smiled, and said, "Please sit."
Nicholas Drake quietly looked at her. She had lost a lot of weight. Her delicate face was pale but radiant, her eyebrows peaceful and serene. She had a look about her that was profoundly peaceful, so much so that it put those who gazed upon her at ease.
There was no hint of animosity or estrangement in her eyes, as if he was just an old friend she hadn't seen in a long time.
It was as if there wasn't a deep-seated hatred between them.
"Are you being discharged today?" Aubree Groove asked softly.
Nicholas Drake nodded in silence.
The atmosphere thickened.
The young man's hands resting on his knees tightened slightly, his slender hands revealing protruding blue veins, an unsettling sight.
"I'm sorry," he said.
His voice was hoarse, sounding like air from an old, worn bellows.
