Back then, I was too afraid of losing him the reason I acted like that. But what I would never forget was when he told me, “It's so hard to be with you, Isla!”
Brushing off my thoughts, I sighed heavily and calmly replied, “I’m not jealous."
A sigh echoed through the phone, as if he was trying to control his temper. "I’ve drunk too much tonight. Sorry," he mumbled, softer now.
Having nothing to say, I didn't reply.
After a long silence, Bryce repeated, “I've drunk too much.”
Hearing no response from me, Bryce finally hung up the phone. He had drunk too much, and did he expect me, with my injured leg, to go pick him up? He had friends to take care of him tonight. He didn’t need me.
Isla's POV
The day I was discharged, Bryce arrived earlier than expected. It made sense—he was a healer after all—but something felt different. His presence was almost... attentive. He insisted on helping me, taking my things, and offering to drive me home, as though he suddenly remembered how to care.