That night, Anwen stared at the summoning ring on her wrist for a long time. Only when she was certain it would not glow did she decide to stay at the hospital.
She looked around and saw family members who had come to care for patients sleeping everywhere on the hospital benches. The metal benches were icy cold so cold that Anwen had jumped the moment she touched one, yet they had become the most precious resting places people competed for. When the benches ran out, people spread pieces of cardboard on the floor to use as makeshift pillows. Some were luckier: beneath certain hospital beds there were folding cots, which they pulled out to lie beside the patients. But there were very few of these, so most people still had to crowd the hospital corridors.
Anwen fumbled around for a while. When she turned back, she saw an elderly woman pulling out the folding bed beneath Rowan's hospital bed. Rowan was helping her, likely thinking that since he had no family with him, he did not need it. At that moment, a complicated feeling welled up in Anwen's chest almost as if she had subconsciously placed herself in the position of Rowan's family. But when she glanced down at the nurse's uniform she was wearing, she felt she was overstepping. Still, that sense of "overstepping" could not suppress the faint disappointment in her heart, even though she knew that if she truly were his family, she would have given the bed to the elderly woman anyway.
Just then, Rowan's gaze happened to meet Anwen's, cutting her thoughts short. She immediately composed herself and walked toward him.
"Are you on night duty today?" he asked.
"Ah… yes," Anwen replied.
She did not know whether a nurse on night duty was allowed to stay here or had to return to the duty room. But since she had already transformed into a nurse, what was there left to be afraid of? She walked over and sat beside Rowan.
"I'll stay until you fall asleep, then I'll go."
Rowan looked surprised."That won't do."
"The doctor told me to," Anwen lied quickly, a reason Rowan could not refuse. She then pulled the blanket up for him and dragged a plastic chair to sit beside his bed. Rowan turned slightly away, while Anwen sat quietly at his side.
The hospital at night was very quiet. Yet that very quietness made people afraid. For Anwen, the silence made her acutely aware of the fragility of breathing. She feared that one moment she might stop hearing Rowan's steady breaths. The silence unsettled her, disoriented her, as though she were lost in time, imprisoned within an invisible, soundless void. She stared at Rowan, tense had anyone ever watched someone so closely just to make sure they were still breathing, afraid they might slip away without notice? Anwen remained in that anxious state until Rowan's breathing grew steady and even. Only when she believed he had fallen asleep did she stand up and quietly leave.
...
The next morning marked the beginning of the first round of chemotherapy.
Early that day, Anwen prepared breakfast for Rowan and brought it to his room. Rowan was surprised to see her.
"You were on night duty, don't you get time to rest in the morning? You didn't sleep enough. Where do you get the energy?"
Anwen smiled awkwardly."I'm fine. I wasn't sleepy, so I came to work."
She placed the food she had bought on his bed.
"I got you breakfast."
"How can I trouble you like this? How much was it? I'll transfer the money to you."
Hearing this, Anwen hurriedly arranged her thoughts into a believable reply."Oh, I made breakfast for myself anyway, so I made some extra for you."
Afraid Rowan would still feel awkward, she quickly added,"I treat other patients the same way. Go ahead and eat, try my cooking."
Rowan accepted the bowl of porridge but still reminded her,"You don't need to prepare food for me next time. It's too much trouble."
Knowing he felt uncomfortable, Anwen said nothing. She quietly watched him eat.
For someone who was ill, the scariest thing was losing their appetite. Seeing Rowan eat with such gusto made Anwen feel relieved and happy. He finished quickly, and her mood lifted as well. Seeing that chemotherapy time was approaching, Anwen prepared to leave but just then Rowan handed her an electric kettle.
"Could you help me boil a kettle of water?"
"Of course," she replied, taking it without hesitation.
The water station was always crowded, with long waits. For ordinary people, waiting thirty minutes for their turn was normal. But Anwen was different, she was an angel. She slipped into a corner and placed both hands on the kettle. Almost instantly, steam rose from the water container, condensed at the spout, and dripped into the kettle. Soon it filled up. Warmth spread from her palms, bubbles gathered at the bottom and sides, then burst and rose to the surface. In less than five minutes, the water boiled.
Delighted, Anwen hurried back with the kettle. But when she reached Rowan's bed, he was gone. The blanket lay slightly rumpled.
As she stood there in a daze, the elderly woman in the neighboring bed spoke up."That young man just rushed to the bathroom. Looks like he was nauseous."
Nauseous?
Anwen froze for a few seconds, then suddenly understood. She quickly set the kettle down and ran to the restroom.
She arrived just as Rowan was coming out.
He was startled to see her. His face was pale, his eyes and nose red, his whole body exhausted. The sight made Anwen choke up; her nose stung, and she struggled to hold back tears. She felt an overwhelming tenderness toward him and stepped forward, placing her hand on his forehead.
"If you didn't want to eat, you shouldn't have forced yourself."
"How did you come back so fast…?" he asked weakly.
"Are you very tired? Let me help you. Does your head hurt? It's okay, we'll go see the doctor."
They were talking past each other, neither answering the other's questions, yet both filled with concern.
Suddenly, Rowan laughed. Anwen felt a little annoyed."What are you laughing at?"
"I didn't expect you to get hot water that quickly. Hey, don't tell me you used your nurse privileges to cut in line?"
Anwen felt slightly guilty but immediately protested,"Of course not!"
If she had boiled water the normal way, she might never have known that he had vomited up his breakfast everything he tried to hide from her might have succeeded. But luckily, Anwen was an angel. It was as if heaven itself had arranged it.
"If you don't feel like eating, don't force yourself," she said softly. "It's better to eat a little and keep it down than eat everything and throw it up."
Rowan was silent for a long while before finally saying,"I couldn't bear to waste what you made."
At those words, the emotions Anwen had been holding back nearly burst. She dared not speak, afraid she would start crying the moment she opened her mouth.
Why did she feel so much tenderness for him?Why was there someone so sincere in this world?
...
The first chemotherapy cycle would last several weeks, followed by a rest period. Whether Rowan could return home afterward would depend on his condition. Sitting before the MRI images on the computer screen, the doctor pointed out the tumor's location, it lay in a very dangerous area, in the left lobe of the brain, pressing on critical nerves and showing signs of metastasis. Standing beside Rowan, Anwen felt as though her heart were being crushed.
After explaining the condition, the doctors proceeded with chemotherapy. Because the tumor was in the brain, the first treatment involved injecting chemotherapy drugs into the spinal fluid so the medication could reach the brain quickly, suppress metastasis, and reduce the tumor's size. At the sight of the syringe filled with chemicals, Anwen turned pale. The doctor lifted Rowan's shirt and inserted the needle directly into his spine.
At that moment, Anwen immediately turned her head away. Her body went cold, nearly trembling with fear. Just then, she felt a faint tingling at her fingertips. Looking down, she realized Rowan's fingers were brushing hers, he was reaching for her hand. Sensing her gaze, Rowan struggled to lift his head. Though his face was pale and his brows tightly knit in pain, he smiled at her.
Anwen froze, then sat down beside him and let her hand slip into his. His grip was light and weak, he had little strength left.
"Don't be afraid…"
It should have been her comforting him, yet he was comforting her instead. Something began to take shape in Anwen's heart as she tightened her grip on his hand.
...
After the injection, Rowan began intravenous chemotherapy. The IV bags and tubes became constant companions. His health gradually declined; fatigue set in, and he needed a wheelchair for radiation therapy.
On days when he felt better, he painted.
As the first week of chemotherapy passed, winter began to approach. Drizzling rain and biting north winds made the harsh cold even harder for both Rowan and Anwen.
One day, Rowan remarked,"Strange… this is the first time I've seen a nurse as free as you."
Anwen jumped."Huh?"
Rowan teased,"Don't you see? While other nurses run around caring for patients, you only take care of me. I didn't know I had such special privileges."
To Anwen, only what was inside her was real, everything else, her identity as a nurse, the excuses she used to stay by his side, was false. So what harm was there in one more lie?
"Of course," she said. "I only take care of you."
Then Rowan hesitated before speaking again."I'll need your help with something. I didn't expect this to take so long. Could you check on my dogs and cats at home? Maybe refill their food?"
"Of course. I promised you," Anwen replied. Seeing his complexion improved, she felt reassured and left.
This time, she remembered the way to Rowan's house. Winter had arrived, changing everything. Every season had its own beauty, what mattered was whether one's eyes had space to hold it. Bare branches revealed shapes and patterns long hidden by leaves. Winter flowers bloomed wild sunflowers, yellow mustard blossoms, and even sunflowers turning toward the sun. Though winter sunlight was scarce, these yellows became the world's warmth. Anwen felt comforted nothing ever truly disappeared. When the sun dimmed, flowers carried its color instead.
She walked briskly until she reached Rowan's house. The dogs and cats were waiting at the gate, tails wagging when they saw her, eager as if expecting news of their owner.
Anwen opened the gate, knelt, and stroked them.
"Have you been lonely? Worried?" she asked softly.
The dogs panted eagerly; the cats rubbed against her. But when she failed to see Dilo, Anwen stood up anxiously and called out:
"Dilo? Dilo, where are you?"