He couldn't even wait until evening. Fresh out of the shower, he was already rushing out the door. Did he think of our home as just a hotel room?
I hurried to get up but cried out in pain, only then realizing that I hadn't tended to my injuries, and the couch was stained red with my blood.
"Alan, could you stay?"
Five years of love weren't so easy to throw away.
I held onto a tiny hope. If he cared for me, even just a little, I'd find the courage to keep going.
"Got to work." Alan impatiently signed again.
"It hurts so much. Could you stay with me? Please, don't go."
I grabbed his sleeve, like a drowning person clinging to a lifeline.
Alan scowled and yanked his arm free, his face full of disgust.
"Stop pretending. If it hurts, go to the hospital. Don't you love hospitals?"
Love hospitals?
It felt like a knife had pierced my heart. Did I want to go to the hospitals? Did I want to be deaf?
I sensed the unusual bitterness and violence in his tone, but I couldn't find the reason why.
In the past five years, I had been to countless hospitals, not just for my ears but also because I couldn't get pregnant.
"As long as you're healed, I'm willing to sacrifice everything."