She nodded lightly, watching as Brandan lowered his head again to serve her another spoonful. Iris Harris couldn't help but say, "No need. I can do it myself."
"Your right arm can't move, otherwise the wound will reopen. I'll feed you."
"It's okay, I still have my left hand."
It's just a spoon, not chopsticks—using her left hand should be fine.
Besides, she felt quite awkward having him feed her.
Too intimate.
Their relationship didn't seem to have reached such a level of closeness, did it?
In any case, Iris still felt it was better to do it herself.
Brandan glanced at her, grabbed a pillow to prop up her waist, making her sit more comfortably, then served her another spoonful: "You're not feeling well right now, no need to show off with me. I can take care of this."
"..." Iris looked at the spoon in front of her, pursed her lips, and lowered her head to take a sip.
