"He's not missing any limbs, no internal injuries whatsoever. How serious could it be that someone else's wife has to babysit him overnight? Or is he like me, with both legs broken once before?"
Ophelia tried to explain, but her words trailed off, and she pressed her lips together, going silent.
Two years ago, I was in a car accident myself. An eight-wheeler truck lost control and came barreling right at me.
I got pinned underneath, and all I could think about was calling my wife.
I desperately wanted to tell her that if I didn't make it, she should take my inheritance and find a good man who could take care of her for the rest of her life.
But the reality—I called her 50 times, and she didn't pick up...
Thank goodness, just when I was about to give up, the call finally connected.
I told her I was in a car accident and might not survive.
But instead of sympathy, all I got was her irritated lecture. "Dammit! Can you stop calling me out of the blue?! I'm busy as hell, you know?"
She even threatened me, hissing, "If you're just trying to get my attention, I wouldn't hesitate to divorce you, Duncan!"
After that, I didn't dare disturb her again. I faced death all on my own.