The faint morning light filtered through the heavy curtains, letting in a few dim rays of light.
Clara fumbled with her fingertips, stuffing a few changes of clothes into her suitcase. Her blind eyes couldn't discern directions, and her elbows frequently bumped against the edge of the wardrobe, making dull thuds. The suitcase zipper was stiff from her handling, the scraping sound of the metal buckles particularly jarring in the quiet room.
She was struggling to pull the zipper all the way down when she suddenly heard footsteps behind her. Then, a pair of warm arms wrapped around her waist from behind.
The familiar scent, carrying a faint aroma of cedar, wafted over. It was the comforting smell she had indulged in for seven years, but now it felt like fine needles, pricking her back until it stiffened.
"Niannian, why don't you sleep a little longer?" Liam's voice was close to her ear, deliberately soft, with a theatrical gentleness. "You just got back from the hospital, you're not fully recovered yet, why are you making such a fuss?"