"Hey, got a question for you." Gilbert's tone was lighthearted, but he pressed on with a serious question, "Why would someone dislike... or be afraid of getting close to others?" Yates immediately picked up on the underlying issue, his amusement deepening.

"What's the matter, Sherilyn doesn't like getting cozy with you?"

"Ugh!"

Glancing around to ensure they were alone, Gilbert reluctantly nodded and lowered his voice.

"Whenever I get close to her, she always seems... really nervous."

"Oh..."

Yates gave him a knowing look and clapped him on the shoulder. "Be honest, are your moves a bit off?"

What?? Gilbert was taken aback and instinctively began to object, "How could..."

But he stopped short, memories flooding back. He recalled their early days of marriage, those few awkward and rushed occasions they'd been intimate... He vaguely remembered Sherilyn crying.

Seeing the confusion on his face, Yates couldn't help but laugh.

"So? Is it true? When you guys got married, Sherilyn was only twenty, practically a kid... Maybe you left her with a bit of trauma."

"Get lost!" Annoyed, Gilbert shrugged off Yates and left with his tray of food.

"Mr. Gilbert! Better step up your game!"

Gilbert ignored the comment, wondering if Yates could be right.

It couldn't be, could it? Although their early attempts were far from perfect, he felt there had to be another reason for Sherilyn's reluctance...

Running a bit late, he returned to their room to replace Sherilyn already out of the shower, wrapped in a bathrobe.

"Back already?"

She handed him a bottle of soda she'd taken from the fridge, "I didn't realize it was fizzy. I don't like carbonated drinks, so I only had a sip. You can have the rest."

"Sure."

Gilbert took it, downing half in one gulp.

He noticed Sherilyn eating a salad. He gestured towards her plate, "Don't just eat greens, have some shrimp too."

"Here, you try."

Sherilyn forked a shrimp and brought it to his lips. Gilbert smiled, accepting the gesture.

He enjoyed these moments of affection. As for the rest... they could take their time; it would happen eventually.

He stood up, pointing to the bed, "You sleep here tonight, I'll take the couch."

Then, leaning down, he gently squeezed her chin, "I won't pressure you. Take your time."

"Mhm." Sherilyn nodded, her smile fading as soon as he turned away.

Late at night.

"Gilbert?"

After calling his name several times and making sure he was sound asleep on the couch, Sherilyn turned on the bedside lamp and got up. From her backpack, she took out a small kit—a blood collection kit.

Taking a deep breath, she approached the couch.

Gilbert was in deep sleep.

Gently, Sherilyn rolled up his sleeve, confident he wouldn't wake-the soda had contained half a sleeping pill.

Holding her breath, she followed the steps Joyce had taught her... tie the tourniquet, disinfect, insert the needle, draw blood.

Then, she removed the needle.

Luckily, Gilbert had thick veins, making her task smooth.

Looking at the tube of blood, Sherilyn silently prayed... hoping it would work.

"Sherilyn! Sherilyn, wake up!"

Groggy with sleep, she kicked out. "So annoying!"

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