"Mr. Cheney is in the hospital," Butler Santana said. "Miss Yale, would you like to go see him?"
Miss Yale's heart clenched. He really was in the hospital.
"Which hospital? Is it serious?"
"I can take you there; it's hard to say how serious it is, he probably hasn't woken up yet. Miss Yale, who called you? Mr. McIntosh?"
"No," Jasmine Yale just shook her head.
"Oh, Miss Yale, I'll take you to the hospital."
Butler Santana had been looking forward to Jasmine Yale's return, and now that she had returned, she couldn't wait to take her to the hospital.
She set Jasmine Yale's suitcase aside, her face wearing an expression of worry.
"Miss Yale, will you be leaving again this time?"
Jasmine gave no response.
Her mind was filled with thoughts of that person, his every smile and frown, his voice, his face.
It felt as if a hand was squeezing her heart, leaving her breathless.
It couldn't be the last time, he had to get better.
