Bastian opens the door slowly, a tray in his hand containing breakfast for Nasha. There was spaghetti carbonara still smoking hot, bruschetta bread topped with tomatoes and basil, and a glass of fresh orange juice. She stepped slowly over to Nasha, who looked pale and weak on the bed.
"Breakfast first," Bastian says in a soft tone.
Nasha turns to him, her eyes wide as she sees Bastian actually bringing her breakfast.
"So you really made breakfast for me?" asked Nasha in a soft voice, still in disbelief.
Bastian smiled slightly, then sat on the edge of the bed while placing the tray on his lap. "Yes. You should eat soon, to get better," Bastian replied, taking a piece of bruschetta and trying to spoon it into Nasha's mouth.
"I'm not hungry." Nasha shook her head, refusing the proffered food.
"I don't want to eat, Bastian," she refuses.
However, Bastian remains gentle and patient, trying again to spoon the bruschetta into Nasha's mouth.
