"Breakfast is here," she said with a warm smile.
She wheeled the trolley alongside Ethan's bed before lifting the covered dishes one by one onto the adjustable meal table. A bowl of warm porridge released a gentle cloud of steam as she uncovered it, followed by a serving of clear chicken soup, neatly sliced fresh fruit, and a glass of warm water.
Everything had been prepared exactly according to the physician's instructions—light enough not to burden his recovering body while providing the nourishment he needed to regain his strength.
"Let's raise the bed a little," she said gently.
Ethan nodded, and with the press of a button, the head of the hospital bed slowly lifted until he was sitting in a comfortable position. Even that small movement pulled lightly at the bruises around his ribs, causing him to wince almost imperceptibly.
