The weak patient, young and helpless, lay on his bed and gazed at the angel beside him. The angel, beautiful and radiant, worked with a sad expression, yet her light shone bright as her delicate hands and fingers caressed the face of the young man lying unconscious on the next bed. The boy studied the face of the angel, whose name he did not know, and wondered how such a wonderful creature could ever be burdened with such sorrow as was evident on her face. Her dark, lustrous hair formed a halo around her demure and sweet features, a face of gentleness and kindness.

The angel worked efficiently and carefully, endlessly fussing over the needs of the unconscious young man, who must mean a lot to her. The sick boy, himself a victim of virus, felt a tear at the corner of his eye as he watched the sad girl move around the lifeless hospital ward.

He longed to talk to the angel, to tell her not to be sad. A ridiculous though it certainly was, for the boy did not have a reason for the angel not to be sad. All around them, there was only lifelessness. The cheap ward provided scant reassurance of comfort and recuperations. The angel was a breath of life, despite her forlorn look and her seemingly desperate work. The boy turned his head further to get a glimpse at the source of the angel’s sorrow, the young man who lay motionless on the white bed. The boy could not see the man’s injuries, so he assumed that he was seriously ill. Just like the boy.

The man might be the angel’s lover or husband, though they both seemed too young to be married. They were too different to be related, so they had to be lovers. The boy watched as the angel spoke in a whispered tone into the man’s ears, even though her words might not have been heard. She caressed the sleeping face with her slender fingers, all the while whispering in the man’s ears.

Then the angel turned her head around to look at the boy, who felt embarrassed and warm all of a sudden. She forced a smile, which did little to hide the pain in her large beautiful eyes. The boy smiled back, feeling low in the presence of this lovely creature that was so obviously burdened with enormous pain and sorrow.

Hours passed, hours that seemed more like months, and the boy let sleep take him, his head still facing the other bed, where the angel continued to work diligently in taking care of her lover.

When the boy awoke again, he was surprised to see the angel gone. Only the man lay in his bed, still with his eyes shut. A surge of disappointment overcame the boy but he was somewhat relieved when the angel stepped out from the ward’s only bathroom, her lustrous dark hair tied back and her face damp with moisture. She saw the surprised boy gazing at her and once again flashed a smile, this time following it with words, spoken in a sweet voice that melted his heart.

“Hello. Did you sleep well?”

The boy stuttered.

“Wha… oh, yes. Thank you.”

She smiled again, her expression sad as she walked to her man’s bedside and sat down on a chair. She put a hand on his cheek and caressed the growing hair on his face.

“Is he your husband?” the boy ventured, now that the angel had shown that she was thankful for a bit of company. She turned to the boy.

“We are going to be married as soon as he is strong again,” she said, simply. “What is your name? I’m Aurora and this is Quentin,” she said.