He was always there for her, showering her with care. Occasionally, in the quiet of the night, he would pull out his black-screened phone and tap a few times in vain.
I knew what he was thinking.
Since I loved him more than anything, I never went two days without contacting him.
Even after every argument or cold war, I would always give in and apologize within half a day.
That feeling of being out of control annoyed him.
Pressing his throbbing forehead, he opened the drawer. The special migraine medicine I had personally learned to make from a traditional doctor was gone.
He immediately dialed the internal line.
Irritated, he asked, "Has anyone contacted me these past few days?"
The nurse replied, "You canceled all your appointments; no one has contacted you."
Even though it was his own words, for some reason, a strange tightness gripped his heart.
He slammed the phone down.
He threw the black-screened phone and all into the drawer and pushed it back in forcefully.