At this time, Bruce sent a message to me: [Jane, how is your grandma? Is she okay?]
After reading it, I threw my phone aside.
It turned out that when he went out in the middle of the night, he heard me talking about my grandma's stomach disease recurring, but he still chose to drive away and go to find Flora.
In the past, no matter how busy or tired I was, I would reply immediately when I saw his message, and if I replied to him a few minutes late, I would explain to him.
But I just had the experience of carrying my grandmother on my back to the street to stop a car and waiting in panic outside the emergency room.
I didn't want to reply to his messages or answer his calls at all.
Today was Saturday, and I didn't have work.
I stayed with my grandma until the evening when Bruce came.
Learning that my grandma had been in critical condition for two hours, Bruce pulled me out of the ward and yelled at me.
"Jane, Grandma's condition is so serious. Why didn't you tell me?"
His attitude was righteous as if he was questioning me.
"I couldn't even get through to you. How could I tell you?"
I slapped him with all my strength.
"Besides, do you care about it? You only have Flora in your heart!"