I murmured in response, but then a memory hit me. Once, when I went out to watch fireworks with Carl, I accidentally burned my arm on a spark. The blisters swelled, and I cried out in pain, but Carl just stood there with his hands in his pockets, impatiently scrolling through his phone for news.
“Are you an idiot? How can an adult burn themselves setting off fireworks? I’ve reserved a restaurant; are you coming or not?”
That day, to avoid disappointing him, I covered the burn with a wet wipe and stayed by his side for the entire day. When I finally got home, I couldn’t even take the wet wipe off.
It struck me that my boyfriend of seven years couldn't compare to my work partner in moments like these. My nose felt sore as tears began to well up again, and I cried silently.
When Leo heard my sobs, he surprisingly didn’t make fun of me. Instead, he quietly handed me a carton from the car.
After parking in front of the hospital, a team of well-trained doctors gathered around us. "You must be Mia. Mr. Norris has explained the situation to us. Please try to endure the pain and go upstairs for a checkup," one of them said. They then brought out a wheelchair and carefully lifted me into it.