Deborah quietly stepped out of the room after the cleaning, her eyes meeting Davis's in a silent exchange. Emotions and unspoken words flickered between them—concern, hope, understanding and curiosity.
As the door clicked shut, Davis turned back toward Jessica who was sitting quietly on the bed with her head resting on the headboard, her gaze lowered.
He gently took the tray from the bedside table and began to arrange the dishes on the bed with dedicated precision and calmness.
The food had been carefully prepared by Deborah, who had spent the better part of the evening in the kitchen. There was a wide range of dishes—white soup, plantain pudding, a bit of jollof rice, some grilled drumstick, and a light pasta dish, topping it up with freshly diced fruit salad.
She had to make the food slightly spicy. Everything was in small portions to make it easier for her to taste.
