After being discharged, I bought a new phone and took my best friend back to my house. Her leg made it hard to move, so she had to wait downstairs.
I confirmed the damage wasn't too severe and could be reported to the police for evidence. I took pictures of the gas pipe that had been cut and the bloodstains left behind the bedroom door from my desperate struggle. We then hailed a taxi to the police station.
On the way, I sent a message to Jacob: [If you don't want to sign the divorce papers, fine. Let's just meet at the civil affairs bureau tomorrow. Don't forget to take Robin with you.]
No sooner had I sent the message than his call came through. I hung up immediately and blocked his number.
When we arrived at the station, my best friend sat in a chair at the entrance while I explained the situation to the police officer. He had a strange look in his eyes as I spoke. "This fire has already been reported," said the police.
My heart sank as I recalled Robin's reaction.
The officer continued, sounding somewhat hesitant, "But the person who reported it said to hold off on the investigation for now, so ..."