Sylvia Young was asleep on the large bed.
On the nightstand beside her pillow sat her heart medication. She had just taken it, and the bottle was still uncapped.
Yuri Sinclair wheeled himself over, picked up the bottle, and carefully screwed the cap back on before placing it in the nightstand drawer.
Once he had done all this, he turned his wheelchair to gaze at the woman on the bed.
The frail, gaunt woman's eyes fluttered open, and she suddenly grabbed his hand...
Yuri Sinclair tried to pull his hand away, but Sylvia Young only held on tighter.
Her eyes barely open, she looked weakly at the man beside her. "Your Highness, I know you can't stay and keep me company tonight, but could you talk with me for a little while before you go?"
Looking at her small, palm-sized face, her cheeks partially hidden by her long hair, Yuri Sinclair reached out to brush it aside. "Alright," he said gently.
