"Sacha, I slipped in the bathroom. I'm now having a hard time walking. Can you come over?" Craig’s voice came through the phone, sounding pitiful.
Her eyes instinctively darted to me. With no expression, I gave a small nod and said calmly, “If you need to go, don’t worry about me. I’ll manage.”
“I… I have something urgent at work,” she muttered, already shifting back into the driver’s seat. “You just rest. I’ll be back as soon as I can.” And with that, she sped off at a pace much faster than when she’d brought me here.
Grimacing from the pain in my leg, I checked myself into the hospital, borrowing a wheelchair from the nurse’s station. Kind strangers helped me navigate the halls until my wound was finally cleaned and bandaged. By the time the doctor finished, it was already past noon. Still, Sacha hadn’t returned yet nor called or messaged me once. Left with no other choice, I hailed a taxi and made my way home on my own.
By the time I stepped through my front door, it was late afternoon, and only then did Sacha finally call.
“Errol, where are you? I’m back here in the hospital,” she said, her voice irritated.
"I’m home," I replied calmly.