Suzy's steps echoed softly down the marbled hallway, her heart pounding a nervous rhythm against her ribs. In her hands, a simple white bowl held cool water and a soft linen towel, an image so foreign to her life she almost coughed.
Taking care of the sick never featured in her childhood. Growing up as an only child, she'd always been the one coddled, the recipient of care rather than the giver.
She had never had the experience of tending to a feverish sibling, a sick friend or a bedridden parent. The closest she'd come was witnessing her mother fuss over her father when he'd occasionally catch a cold.
Memories flickered in her mind – her mother's gentle touch as she placed a cool compress on her father's forehead, the soothing murmur of comforting words. Suzy subconsciously mimicked the action, tilting the bowl in her hand to ensure the water stayed cool.
