The girl's voice was soft, but it still woke the man who was resting with his eyes closed.
On the hospital bed.
The man slowly opened his eyes.
A pair of pitch-black eyes stared intently at the ceiling, their gaze dim and lifeless, like a dried-up well.
Mia Grant repeated herself softly.
Like sweet rain after a long drought, a flicker of light appeared in his eyes, but as he blinked, it vanished as if it were just her imagination.
His face was still an emotionless mask, showing no reaction.
After a few seconds, he finally spoke. "I'm fine."
He probably hadn't had water in a while; his voice was slightly hoarse, as if being dragged across coarse sandpaper.
Mia Grant paused, her eyes instinctively searching. She then picked up the glass of water on the table. "Would you like some water?"
