Corley lounged on the couch, a smirk playing on his lips as he watched Cliff's awkward fidgeting. "Well, you shouldn't worry. After all, Cliff fibbed about craving it. That's why Roseanne would cook it up. And she's not showing up anytime soon." Murray's expression darkened instantly, his gaze slicing toward Cliff, icy and sharp. "Did I ask you to go? Who gave you the right to decide on your own?"

Cliff shrank back slightly, clearing his throat. "I was just concerned about your health. You've barely eaten anything these past few days. If Roseanne hadn't made that oatmeal, you'd still be starving..."

Murray remained silent, his face a stone mask.

"I stopped by Roseanne's earlier. The place she's staying now is tiny and rundown, with no elevator. Climbing seven flights of stairs daily, you can tell she's having a rough time," Cliff ventured further, trying to read Murray's reaction. Despite his words of disdain, a flicker of worry crossed Murray's eyes momentarily.

'Yeah, he still cares,' Cliff thought.

Just as Cliff was about to add something else, a high-pitched "Babe" echoed from the doorway. Both Cliff and Corley couldn't help but shudder at the sound. It was like nails on a chalkboard.

Millie hadn't heard from Murray in days. Calls went unanswered, and it was only after asking York she learned that Murray was in hospital for a gastric bleed. Panicked, she skipped her classes and rushed to the hospital. Seeing Murray in his hospital gown, looking pale, she pouted, tears welling up. "Babe, I'm so sorry. I just found out you were in hospital. How are you feeling now? You look pale. Should I call a doctor for you?"

Her barrage of questions, mixed with endless crying, was grating on everyone's nerves, not just Murray's but also Cliff's and Corley's.

Rubbing his forehead, Murray soothed her. "It's alright now. There's no need for tears."

He couldn't help but miss the days with Roseanne, how even in distress, she'd have everything organized and under control.

Always keen at reading the room, Millie noticed the shift in Murray's demeanor and toned down her emotions, her sobs subsiding to sniffles, though her eyes remained red, filled with concern and sorrow. Seeing her quiet down, Murray softened. "My getting sick was sudden, but it's nothing serious. I'm okay now. You should head back to school."

Millie bit her lip. "Are you sure you don't need me to stay? I could make you some oatmeal."

Cliff couldn't help but chuckle at that. The famous oatmeal was still untouched, and yet here was someone offering to make more. The irony was just too funny.

Having had little interaction with Cliff and the others, Millie felt a rush of irritation at his laughter. Was making oatmeal that laughable?

After catching on to the jest, Murray's brows knitted together. "No need. You should head back to school."

Sensing his impatience, Millie quickly acquiesced and left.

As soon as she was gone, Corley, silent most of the time, stood up. "So, will you eat that oatmeal or what?"

Murray wanted to refuse, but glancing at the carefully made oatmeal, he begrudgingly admitted, "Who said I wouldn't eat it?"

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