"Are you feeling better?" Henry Ronan asked as Lucy Ansley came to her senses, thoughtfully removing his hand from her shoulder.
The man's deep, magnetic voice seemed able to ease the agitation and anxiety that followed her illness.
Lucy nodded mechanically, but her gaze remained grey and slightly sluggish.
After a brief silence, she looked up at the elegant and composed man, "Sorry, just now I..."
"There's warm tea in the living room. If you're feeling better, have a cup to invigorate yourself."
Henry didn't give her a chance to dwell on regret, maintaining his usual calmness and composure. Apart from his genuine concern, Lucy felt no discrimination or sympathy from him.
In his eyes, it seemed that everything was of no consequence.
Lucy lowered her gaze to hide her gratitude, obediently saying, "Alright."
She slowly stood up, and the man also picked up the programming book, ready to leave.
