âMr.
Fernandez,â Keanu greeted, instinctively stepping aside.
Tilda adjusted her glasses and took a step back as well, her gaze lowered.
Lyndon nodded curtly at Keanu, then focused on Tilda, who had her head down.
He took a seat beside the bed and touched Sheldonâs forehead, relieved to feel only a slight fever.
âSheldon, are you feeling any discomfort?â he asked.
âIâm a bit weak.
Can you give me a hug?â Sheldon pleaded.
Lyndon raised an eyebrow but obliged, carefully lifting him into his arms.
Tilda, watching nervously, couldnât help but caution, âBe careful.
Heâs still connected to the IV.
â
âI will,â Lyndon reassured her calmly, his voice steady and soothing.
Tilda pressed her lips together, casting her eyes downward, saying nothing more.
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Lyndon checked the IV bag.
âIs this the last one?â he inquired.
âYes,â Tilda confirmed softly.
Lyndonâs gaze softened as it settled on her face.
âYou must have been so worried earlier, right?â he asked gently.
Tilda involuntarily met his eyes, a strange sensation tightening her chest at the concern she saw in his dark eyes.
She quickly looked away, trying to steady her emotions.
âIt was okay,â Tilda murmured.
She wondered what was wrong with her.
Why did she feel fragile and melancholic, and even on the verge of tears constantly?
It was so unlike her.
When she had been alone in caring for Sheldon, she was strong enough to face any challenge.
Now, with Lyndon in her life, she felt weak and longed to depend on him whenever something went wrong.
She just wanted to rely on him.
âHow was it okay? Mr.
Fernandez, you shouldâve seen her.
She was crying like a child,â Elma interjected, smiling as she exposed Tildaâs vulnerability.
Tildaâs cheeks flushed.
âNo, I wasnât!â