Veronica POVI stared at Oliver Manns as he walked around my room, fussing over me. He asked about the ventilation, whether I would like the curtains to be pulled back, or if I wanted something from the kitchen, and he would get it for me. I rubbed my brow, feeling a little stifled in my own room. “Oliver, I can manage on my own.” I reminded him. I just got back from the hospital, but I am fine. “I know, but I wanted you to be comfortable. You still need to rest.” He told me what the doctor reminded me of before he signed my discharge slip. I sighed. “You are making me nauseous,” I told him frankly. At once, Oliver sat beside me on my bed, looking sheepish. “Sorry. I just wanted you to be comfortable before I go.” He told me.The thought of him leaving made me uneasy. Well, it could not be helped. We’ve been together for two days, cooped up in my hospital suite. “I can stay, you know,” Oliver said, making me look at him in surprise. How can he tell what I was feeling?
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