“Where did all the food come from?” Hina asked, as she poked at the bento box and opened its lid. She whiffed the scent of spices from the lunch box, nearly eating it with her nose alone. As the aroma sank inside in her mind, vibrant colours emerged from Hina’s eyes. “It really is curry. But it doesn’t look like you bought it from a convenience store. Well, I doubt that could happen. Nobody can cook curry this perfect, not unless it’s…” A moment of silence enveloped inside the hospital room as Hina recognised the origin of this curry. As soon as she realised it, Hina gingerly glanced in my direction and hopelessly reached her hands on top of my shoulder. But before she could even rest her palm, I caught her arm and, instead, gave her a warm hug. Hina didn’t expect this to happen. I didn't either. Hina widen
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