The sound of the door opening shook Lora out of her deep sleep. Her hand rose to her neck, massaging it to soothe her aching muscles.

"Good morning, Ness," she croaked, recognising the red-haired nurse tip-toeing towards her.

She turned on the dimmer so that she could see the monitor and charted down Jona's pulse, blood pressure and saturations. "Love what you've done with the place," she said pointedly. She crouched down by Lora's feet to check the level of reddish fluid in the bag attached to the bed.

"Thanks," Lora answered sheepishly as she stretched her limbs and stood up from the armchair which she had moved to sit under the window and covered with a woollen beige throw. She also moved the bedside cupboard to the other side of the bed, on which she placed a frame with a family picture and Jonathan's favourite ornament, an antique hourglass with the words Lost Time Is Never Found engraved on the rim. "Still at three twenty?"

"Yup, just about," Nessy confirmed as she heaved herself back up and wrote the figures on his fluid balance chart. She rested the file on the over-bed table, which was now at the foot of the bed. "Don't tell me you've been checking it all night."

Lora tried to stifle a yawn. "No, actually, I slept really well."

The nurse raised a sceptical brow at her. "Jonathan should start sipping some water. Shall I wake him or do you want to do it?" 

"It's ok, Ness. Leave it to me."

Lora opened the blinds and peered out the window as Vanessa shuffled out of the room, obviously taking her sweet time examining Aiden's drawings stuck to the walls with stationery tape. When Lora finally heard the soft close of the door, she fished out Jona's favourite mug from the bedside cabinet and filled it with water.

"Jonathan?" she called, pushing her husband's matted blond hair off his forehead. The man hummed softly as he opened his eyes a sliver and Lora gave him a smile. "Hey," she whispered. "How are you feeling?"

Jonathan cleared his throat and tried to adjust his upper body. He winced. "Dry. Sore."

Lora let out a soft sigh. "Nessy just put some painkillers in your IV. And I brought you some water."

Jonathan opened his eyes fully and looked up at his wife. He took in her shoulder-length, brown hair that had come loose from her ponytail. Her doe, brown eyes were round and expressive, so unlike her late sister's almond ones.

"So, this is what your patients woke up to. Fucking hell! I died and reached Saint Peter's gates. You look like a God damn angel!"

Lora shook her head disapprovingly as she took Jonathan's outstretched hand. "With that foul mouth of yours, Jonathan, you won't get to see Saint Peter's gates. Now, drink! Slowly Jona, or it will make you sick."

Jonathan chuckled as he sucked gently from the paper straw that Lora put to his lips. Little by little he drank the whole thing.

When Lora was satisfied that he was neither coughing nor nauseated, she went out to the kitchenette to make him some tea. They had turned on the lights in the corridor. The nurses were at the desk taking handover from the night staff. Nessy would soon be going home.

Lora reached the small visitor's kitchen and filled up the kettle from the dispenser. She knew where the tea was, where the teaspoons were, the milk. She knew the small kitchen like the back of her hand and yet, she longed to be making tea in her own home.

Be patient, Lora. The Lord is great, she reminded herself.

She heard the ward door open and her head raised automatically towards it. The teaspoon slipped from between her fingers as he walked in, landing with a clank on the floor. Dr Shaw turned towards the sound and his eyes locked with hers. The piercing green of his irises flashed with something Lora could not fathom and it startled her. She quickly dived for the teaspoon and remained crouched down by the cupboards until she heard his footsteps fade away.

Then she laughed at herself. Why was she hiding? Mike gave her permission to stay the night. Shaking her head at her silly behaviour, Lora stood up, finished making Jonathan's tea and headed back to Room 7.

"Dr Shaw is already here. Can you believe it?" she announced as she walked in. She set the cup and saucer on the bedside cabinet before turning to Jona. "Come on, you know the drill. Let me help you turn on your side."

But her husband just looked at her grimly.

"What's the big deal?" he growled.

Lora looked back at him completely at a loss. "I'm sorry. What?"

"He's a doctor, for fuck's sake! This is a hospital. It's his job to be here."

"Jona, what..." she started, but the glare he was giving her made her insides twist as though they were trying to escape her body.

"Of course, you're impressed," he went on, his accusing eyes not leaving her face. "He's a doctor. You have a thing for doctors, don't you? That's why you became a nurse."

"Don't be ridiculous, Jonathan, just let me help you turn on your side," Lora huffed, trying to ease the tension. They had this argument countless times before.

"That's right. Help the poor cripple. That's all I am now, right?" Jona snarled, struggling to get up on his own, his knuckles white over the bed rails as he pulled his upper body into a sitting position. He winced in pain and fell backwards onto the mattress. Lora gasped in horror.

"Mother of Joseph! Jonathan, are you crazy? You're going to harm your back!" Her hands reached out to him, but he slapped them away. He let out an angry howl and knocked the cup of piping hot tea to the floor where it shattered to pieces.

"Fuck you and that son of a bitch! Why don't you go see if the fucking cleaner is here? Doctors can't be the only ones who show up for work in this hell hole!"

Jonathan's monitor started to make a beeping noise. His pulse was raised. He was red in the face. A thin sheen of sweat covered his skin and his blue eyes were popping out to the extent that his usually handsome features seemed cartoonish.

Lora glowered at her husband, fighting the urge to answer back. She reminded herself that he was suffering. He was stranded in a hospital bed, in pain and with very little hope of ever walking again. He earned his right to lash out. She asked God to help her calm down, to forgive her for angering him. Her comment was unnecessary. Her breathing slowed. Her eyes softened and so did his as he lay his head back down on the pillow, tired from his efforts.

"I'll make you another cup of tea," the slight woman said softly, her voice cracking midsentence. Jona closed his eyes but didn't say anything. He ignored his wife as she picked up the broken pieces of the cup and wiped up the mess with a towel.

Then she hurried out of the room and went straight to the kitchen. Her hands shook as she topped up the kettle for the second time. Hot tears of anger, or of hurt, she couldn't tell which, slid down her cheek. She stuffed a fresh tea bag into a new cup.

"Forgive them, for they know not what they do," she whispered to herself, gripping the edges of the wooden counter as she waited for the water to boil and the calm to take over her.

"Did you sleep here?"

Lora jumped. She had not heard him come in. She wiped her face furiously with the back of her hands before turning to him. He was leaning against the doorway, his lopsided grin making him look as dangerous as the devil himself. But then he saw the state of her. His green eyes snapped to her puffy, red ones. His smile dropped as quickly as her cheeks burned.

"Are you okay? You look exhausted," he stated. It wasn't a sneer or a criticism. It was an irrefutable fact. And yet, it struck a chord.

"Well, when you have two kids and a fully dependent man to take care of, it's hard to look fresh all the time!" she snapped going back to her husband's tea.

"No one looks fresh after sleeping here. The armchairs are hard as a board," he countered without missing a beat. "You didn't have to stay the night."

Lora turned back to him in disbelief. "I stayed to support Jonathan. I don't mind sleeping on an uncomfortable chair. He is my husband after all. I wasn't complaining."

"I never said you were," he interrupted, his confident smirk back on his lips.

This only irritated Lora further so naturally, she went on, feeling the need to emphasize her point. "Besides, he slept through the night. I slept better here than I usually sleep at home."

"So, the analgaesia did its job?"

"Yes," Lora acceded as she turned away from the man's invasive eyes and poured the hot water onto the teabag. "And the catheter spared me the bathroom breaks. So really, it's no sacrifice."

But the young surgeon furrowed his brows in confusion. "Bathroom breaks?"

"Jonathan is on diuretics, you know," Lora explained. "He wakes up at least twice in the night to use the toilet and he can't go on his own. I have to get him out of bed and wheel him to the bathroom."

"Don't you have a urine bottle? I can fill in a form and..."

"My husband doesn't use a urine bottle, Dr Shaw," Lora scoffed as she stirred and removed the tea bag. "And besides, sometimes he doesn't really need to go. He just wants to move a bit. It's alright."

Dr Owen Shaw looked curiously at the young woman in front of him. He had to admit, she intrigued him more than anyone or anything had in a long time. He watched her add the milk carefully until the tea in front of her was a perfect shade of golden brown and then stir again. When she finally chucked the teaspoon into the sink, he swiftly took the cup from the counter and strode to Jona's room, leaving her no choice but to follow him.

"Good morning, Mr Scicluna," he announced flicking on the harsh light as he walked in. "Here's your tea. How did you sleep?"