Sharon asked, "Me?"Thomas looked at her. "Since you're giving me the bed, where are you planning to sleep tonight?"Sleeping on the floor wasn't an option. Nights in Yuicuador were cold, and Sharon couldn't afford to get sick now."I'll take the chair for one night," she said. "Thomas, your condition matters more."Thomas glanced at the wide bed, hesitated, then said, "It's big enough. Do you… want to sleep here too?"If any other man had said that, Sharon would've taken it the wrong way.But coming from Thomas, she knew it was nothing more than a simple, sincere offer."No," she replied, lowering her gaze to the notebook in her lap, flipping through the bedtime stories she'd prepared earlier.Thomas understood her temperament—reserved, cautious—and didn't insist, afraid to cross a line that might cause misunderstanding.Once Sharon was ready, she dimmed the lights and lit a calming aromatherapy candle. Then, in a low, even voice, she began telling stories.She told five.T
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