Yesterday, 12:07 AM
Jay didn’t flinch, but his eyes darkened, and his jaw ticked once before he caught it.
Someone broke into the apartment. And he hadn’t been there.
The sting of guilt curled not all the way visible, but it clung to him like the hospital’s bleach-slick air. His mouth pulled to the side, and his gaze dropped. If he hadn’t gone to the RLD. If he hadn’t wasted those hours. Maybe it wouldn't have happened. Maybe she wouldn’t be standing here talking about threats and warnings like she was describing the weather.
“Natalie…” He wasn’t sure what to say. But whatever he was going to say, it changed at the last second. “I’m sorry.”
It wasn’t even obvious what he was sorry for. Probably for not being there but definitely for everything. Jay wasn’t sure he could unpack it all in this hallway. Or probably ever. But before there was even an option, a nurse called his name. Saved by the bell, maybe. He didn’t hesitate, just glanced at Natalie grateful, guilty, exhausted and followed.
They didn’t make it far.
The hallway echoed with raised voices and the sharp, unmistakable click of a crutch striking polished floor too hard. A nurse was trying to de-escalate, but the verbal barrage made it pretty clear who had the upper hand.
“Are you joking?” came Cyrena’s sharp voice. It was clear she was barely short of losing her patience completely. Jay rounded the corner just in time to see her: tall, sleek in silk, ankle bound in a high-tech brace that hummed faintly as it adjusted to her weight. She stood uneven in one high heel and the other in the brace.
“You expect me to wear this? I look ridiculous.” She jabbed the crutch against the wall, face flushed with anger or embarrassment. Probably both. “This is a private hospital and you’re sending me out like some injured extra from a street clinic?”
The nurse tried to placate her with something about swelling and nerve scans, but Cyrena waved her off like a dog circling too close.
“Give me something that works,” she snapped. “A shot, a pill, I don’t care. I’m not stepping into public looking like this. I have events tomorrow. An image.” She was halfway down the hall already, limping but proud, furious that the limp betrayed her. “This is unacceptable.”
Someone broke into the apartment. And he hadn’t been there.
The sting of guilt curled not all the way visible, but it clung to him like the hospital’s bleach-slick air. His mouth pulled to the side, and his gaze dropped. If he hadn’t gone to the RLD. If he hadn’t wasted those hours. Maybe it wouldn't have happened. Maybe she wouldn’t be standing here talking about threats and warnings like she was describing the weather.
“Natalie…” He wasn’t sure what to say. But whatever he was going to say, it changed at the last second. “I’m sorry.”
It wasn’t even obvious what he was sorry for. Probably for not being there but definitely for everything. Jay wasn’t sure he could unpack it all in this hallway. Or probably ever. But before there was even an option, a nurse called his name. Saved by the bell, maybe. He didn’t hesitate, just glanced at Natalie grateful, guilty, exhausted and followed.
They didn’t make it far.
The hallway echoed with raised voices and the sharp, unmistakable click of a crutch striking polished floor too hard. A nurse was trying to de-escalate, but the verbal barrage made it pretty clear who had the upper hand.
“Are you joking?” came Cyrena’s sharp voice. It was clear she was barely short of losing her patience completely. Jay rounded the corner just in time to see her: tall, sleek in silk, ankle bound in a high-tech brace that hummed faintly as it adjusted to her weight. She stood uneven in one high heel and the other in the brace.
“You expect me to wear this? I look ridiculous.” She jabbed the crutch against the wall, face flushed with anger or embarrassment. Probably both. “This is a private hospital and you’re sending me out like some injured extra from a street clinic?”
The nurse tried to placate her with something about swelling and nerve scans, but Cyrena waved her off like a dog circling too close.
“Give me something that works,” she snapped. “A shot, a pill, I don’t care. I’m not stepping into public looking like this. I have events tomorrow. An image.” She was halfway down the hall already, limping but proud, furious that the limp betrayed her. “This is unacceptable.”
Only darkness shows you the light.