(Yun Qiao's POV)
There was a boy who always sat alone on the garden bench.
From my floor-to-ceiling window, I could see him. He never looked around, never checked his phone. Just sat there with his face tilted up toward the sky.
As if he could see it.
But I knew he couldn't.
The nurses said he was blind. Born that way.
Still, he looked more at peace than anyone I'd ever known.
I don't know when I started watching him, but I do it often. Every time he comes, between meds and breathing exercises, I press my forehead gently to the glass, careful not to let the nurses notice. Just watching him made the world feel a little less like a cage.
We'd never spoken.
But I liked him.
The way he sat so still… like he was listening to something the rest of us couldn't hear.
I used to wish I could go out there.
Just once.
I've seen him again today, like always, sitting in the garden and looking up the sky. I've watched him from afar , never spoken or cross paths before. Every once in a week and a particular time, he's always there, like it's his routine.
Chuckles.
It's funny how we haven't spoken before but I seem to like him. I've always wanted to speak to him but I'm not allowed to step out of my suite so I could only watch him through the floor to ceiling window in my suite.
Today I'm so excited, I've been waiting for him to show up at his spot in the garden, so I could talk to him, they say I'm stable for now so I can go out but not out of the hospital ground , but I'm still happy anyway.
"Just for a short stroll," the nurse said, her voice tight like she expected me to fall apart halfway through.
My brother had come by earlier, bringing warm cookies he baked himself. He always tried too hard to cheer me up. But I loved him for it.
So I slipped a few cookies into a paper napkin, pulled on my soft green jacket, and walked slowly—I've tripped several times, even though I took the elevator—into the garden, with the wind brushing against my cheeks like a memory I hadn't touched in years.
And without thinking too hard, I walked over and sat beside him.
We didn't speak.
Not at first.
I stared at the sunlight dancing through the leaves. He sat quietly, eyes closed, face turned toward the sky.
The silence between us wasn't awkward. It was… peaceful. Like we were already used to it.
Then, just as the wind picked up and scattered the scent of sweet grass and late-summer flowers, he said softly:
"I wonder what the sky looks like. If only I could see it"
My breath caught.
His voice was lower than I imagined. Gentle, but not fragile.
I turned to him, heart fluttering in ways that had nothing to do with my condition.
I wanted to say something. Anything.
So I did.
"It's soft blue today," I whispered. "Like watercolors spread thin with too much water. The clouds are light and lazy, drifting like they've got nowhere to be. If you listen close enough… I think they sigh." I said not even understanding what I said.
He didn't speak.
But his lips curved into the faintest smile."it looks beautiful"
Not knowing what to say, I handed him the cookies I brought." My brother dropped by and gave them to me, it's too much I can't finish all, so help me finish it"