The bright sunlight on the beach made everything seem almost unreal. After the shipwreck, I struggled to breathe, coughing up water as I whispered, "Javier, my leg... it hurts. Can you carry me?"
He scoffed at me, not even glancing my way.
He took in my drenched, worn-out state and sneered. "Sybil’s got a cold and you somehow made it to shore, right? Does your leg hurt? Stop being dramatic. Get up and go on your own. I’m not wasting my time on this."
I spat out another mouthful of seawater, then was helped to the hospital by a kind stranger.
At first, I thought he was too busy to care. But I saw his Maserati parked outside when I looked through the blinds.
A cheerful young nurse at the front desk laughed, “Isn’t that Mr. Collins? I heard he used to be with Doctors Without Borders and now he’s a professor here. I also heard he came with his wife, Sybil. They make such a perfect couple.”
My face paled as the realization hit me: he was with Sybil. It all made sense now.
Sybil was Javier’s current fling, bold, stunning and someone he’d been caring for for the last six months.
Once I was out of the hospital, the family elders invited Javier for a meal.