The Language of Daisies
Language: en
Ever since I rescued Arthur from that blazing warehouse fire, my lungs, ravaged by smoke inhalation, had been slowly deteriorating. On Pancake Day, after carefully preparing a batch of delicious pancakes, a sickening sweetness surged in my throat. I just wanted to rest on the lounge chair for a bit, but I never opened my eyes again. Arthur, who had gone out to buy me some candied nuts, returned, his secretary, Sarah, trailing behind him. Seeing me still on the lounge chair, he reached out for a throw blanket. “You’re not well; don’t overexert yourself. Just get some more sleep.” But Sarah,…