“Anyway, Madeline’s dog vomited all over her apartment, so I need to rush over there to help. I can’t come pick you up.”
“I understand,” I replied quietly, swallowing my frustration.
Oscar hummed nonchalantly, then quickly hung up without offering any further explanation. I was left alone, standing in the cold wind outside the hospital, feeling more abandoned than ever.
That night, I made my way home alone and fell into bed, exhausted. The next morning, Oscar called again to tell me he wouldn’t be coming home because he was “working overtime.”
I sighed. In my haste to leave before, I had forgotten to bring my keys, but when I asked Oscar about it, he brushed me off.
“Didn’t I say I’d change the lock to a password system? That was months ago. Just figure it out,” he said dismissively.
Frustrated, I tried calling again. This time, a woman’s voice answered.
“Hello?” Madeline’s unmistakable voice said.
My heart sank.
“Is Oscar there? I need to talk to him,” I said firmly.
Madeline laughed softly before replying, “Oscar’s taking a shower at my place right now. It’s a bit inconvenient for him to talk.”
In the background, I heard Oscar’s voice, loud and clear.