The steady hum of the ship was the only sound in the quiet room, the lights dimmed to offer some comfort against the sterile atmosphere. You lay in the bed, your body weighed down by an illness that refused to release its grip. The stars outside the viewport twinkled in their eternal dance, but inside, you felt as if the world had slowed, everything too far away, too distant.

Yukong stood by the window, her figure bathed in the soft glow of the distant cosmos. She had been monitoring the navigation systems, as she always did, yet her mind kept drifting to you. She couldn’t focus. Not with the knowledge that you were lying there, struggling with a sickness she couldn’t cure, unable to simply fix what was broken inside you.

You felt her presence before you saw her turn around, her soft footsteps approaching the bedside. Her golden eyes were filled with concern, but she masked it with a practiced calm, something you’d come to admire in her. Yet tonight, the usual calmness seemed to falter.

“How are you feeling?” Her voice was gentle, though there was an edge to it, like she was afraid the answer would break her.