She woke up to the sounds of running tap water and the gentle tinkle of crockery.

The curtains were drawn shut, bathing the room in a comfortable darkness despite the clock striking eight in the morning. The bed was made up on her side, the only indication of her having company was the rectangular spectacles placed on the side table.

Charlize got out of bed, folding the blanket and smoothing out the covers. The water was cold as she washed her face, waking up her senses in an instant. Her head still buzzed with the fading aftermath of a headache and she craved a strong cup of coffee to dispel it completely.

It didn't take her long to find the kitchen. Jonathan's apartment was rather compact, the kitchen adjoined the living room and there was only one other room besides the bedroom which was used mostly for storage.

Years ago, it had been a laboratory but now it was just a space with no furniture, occupied only by piles of unpacked boxes and cartons.

She stopped at the threshold, watching Jonathan work rather methodically, finely chopping vegetables and adding them to the whisked egg for the omelette.

He looked so different in a casual shirt and pyjamas with an apron tied over it. His hair were slightly messy and the half-sleeved grey shirt exposed his veiny arms that were usually concealed in formal button downs.

It almost made her wonder what it would be like to wake up everyday next to him, have breakfast with him, and see him more in his casual attire rather than the brown trench coat and button down shirts.

"Good morning," she called out softly and he turned, striking blue meeting her brown irises.

He dipped his head in acknowledgment as she stepped in. "Morning... Did you sleep well?"

She nodded, her arms gently encircling him from the back as her head dropped onto his shoulder.

He softened in that intimate embrace, letting her hold onto him. The way she showed her affection was rather endearing, letting her guard down when they were close and allowing him to be her support.

Jonathan envied such boundless trust and affection but as it came from her, he had learned to bask in it rather than feel wary of its motives.

"Coffee or tea?" He asked, his hand gently resting over her forearm, anchoring her to him with that fleeting touch.

"Coffee please," she mumbled, "I feel like I need a much stronger dose of caffeine today."

"Headache?" He asked, tilting his head slightly to look at her.

"No, just tired... But I will have a headache if I don't do anything about it."

"In that case, I shall make you something else. Warm milk with honey and a pinch of turmeric can work wonders."

She hummed in reply, trusting his judgement, "If you say so..."

He turned briefly, holding her by the arms as he guided her to the chair beside a makeshift table. "Just give me a few minutes. It will be ready in no time."

"Thanks," she smiled, her cheeks dusted pink as he paused, considered for a moment, then leaned in and touched her lips with his own.

Soon enough, he was back by the counter, preparing turmeric milk for her. Her eyes followed him, taking in how that moment felt both normal and surreal at the same time.

"You are a very considerate host," she remarked as he put down the mug of  frothing hot milk. It was tinged yellow due to the honey and turmeric, emitting a rather soothing yet distinct smell.

The dish of omelette and toast followed suit and soon after, Jonathan had set everything on the table. He took the seat across from her, taking off the apron while his blue eyes mildly observed her.

"Charlize," his voice shook her out of her thoughts. "You're supposed to drink this while it's still warm."

"Oh... Okay," she nodded, her hands wrapping around the mug, fingers tracing the pattern on it.

Breakfast passed in silence as both couldn't decide on what to say to the other.

Once they were done, Charlize remarked, "It was delicious. Thank you."

"My pleasure," he mumbled, taking the dishes back to the kitchen.

Instead of cleaning up right away, he washed his hands and returned to her, kneeling down in front of her. His hands rested on her knees as he looked up at her.

"Jonathan, what are you doing...?" Her voice trailed off, unable to comprehend what he was going to say or do.

His blue eyes weren't cold or detached as he looked at her. Instead, they seemed to shift in a conflicting expression as if he was trying to reason within himself and finding a solution.

"I'm not good at comforting people," he spoke up, "especially those I genuinely care for. But I can see you're worried and intentionally wearing yourself down. I can't offer comfort but I can listen and try to help in any way I can."

Her features softened at that offer and she leaned in, cupping his face in her palm. "It's not a big deal, really. But I feel so touched that you care."

He relished the feel of her fingers on his skin, the delicate caress that seemed to take all his tension away. "If it's about Gabriella, it is a big deal."

She took in a shaky breath and nodded. She was worried about Gabriella but often, she felt she couldn't put it in words.

"I... I feel so helpless when it comes to Ella. I want to do everything in my power to make sure that she gets better and lives a happy life. But each time we meet with her doctor, each time she relapses, it strikes me hard that perhaps all I'm doing is not enough... Will never be enough..."

His hands remained on her knees, thumbs rubbing against her skin through the soft fabric of her trousers. He was silent, encouraging her to resume.

"If there was any hope, any medicine, anything that could guarantee Gabriella's recovery, I would take it up in a heartbeat. But... There's nothing we can do and it makes me feel terrible... In a few days, I'll have to go to the doctor for her appointment again. And I dread it. I dread hearing what the doctors have to say, what further complications lie in her future... I just... I can't stop thinking about it all, Jonathan."

Her hands came to rest on top of his, trying to draw strength from his presence. Yet her head dropped forward and eyes dimmed, a stance so helpless that it cut through him.

"Let me show you something," he spoke up at last, turning his hands and interlacing their fingers together.

She paused, but let him pull her up to her feet and lead her out to the living room. He made her sit down on the couch then from a nearby cabinet, he took out recently organized folders.

He brought out his notebook too from the briefcase and set everything down on the center table before her.

"There's no cure yet for Gabriella's condition, right?" His voice was steady as he addressed her and she nodded, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. "But there can be a way to regulate her symptoms and simulate mental response. The reason she relapses is when her immune system reacts against the body. But what if it could be simulated not to react this severely? No research has been carried out in this direction yet."

She didn't understand until he showed her the notebook and everything else he had been researching on.

"I have been studying about pediatric MS. Full recovery is rare but we can delay the relapses and strengthen the immune system in other ways. Since it's an autoimmune disorder, it is connected to the brain and we can find a solution, even if it's temporary, by targeting the brain."

She listened closely as he explained further, showing her everything he had at home related to his research but most of the material was at the research center. He offered to take her there too if she wanted and also told her that Isaac had added that project in their official records, which meant the entire team was dedicated to find a cure for Gabriella.

Charlize felt dumbfounded as she took in how much he had worked on the subject and how willing he was to take it to completion. He wasn't giving her just hope, he was showing her that there could be a solution and they were working hard to achieve it.

Overwhelmed, she closed the gap between them, taking him by surprise as she hugged him.

Jonathan stiffened, still unaccustomed to being enveloped in tight hugs. But his hands eventually rested on her back, holding her close as he nestled his head in her neck.

He could feel her tears soaking up his shoulder and he ran one hand through her hair, trying his best to console her.

It was all quite new to him too, trying to offer comfort without words. But that gentle gesture of embracing someone, letting them rest their head on a steady shoulder, wiping away their tears, and offering not just words but a genuine promise went a long way than just telling someone that things will get better with time.

"You're not alone, Charlize," he whispered, rubbing her back soothingly, "we all want Gabriella to get better and we will do our best to ensure it. I promise."

***