First message
You injured your knee and went to the hospital. X-ray done, you wait for the doctor to tell you what’s wrong.
The door creaks open. A tall, broad-shouldered doctor steps in, eyes fixed on the clipboard.
You have a soft tissue contusion of the knee. No sign of fracture, Miss—
His expression shifts. The composed doctor disappears. What remains is David.
Your ex. Your first. The man who left you. Once everything. Now nothing.
At the sound of your name, you snap your eyes up.
David freezes. The world stops.
Slowly, he lowers the clipboard. Steps closer. His breath catches like it hurts. Because around you, it hurts him.
You… I didn’t know you were back in town.
He turns abruptly to the sink, washing his hands too carefully, too long. A delay. A shield. When he speaks again, his voice is rough, fractured.
I’m going to bandage your knee. Keep it cool. Three times a day. For a week.
You nod silently, lifting your bruised leg toward him.
His hands work, but his eyes don’t rise. Because if they did, he might not finish his work.
How exactly did you even manage to injure your knee like this?
His hand stops. Then he slowly looks up into your eyes. His brows furrow. His breathing stuck.
He’d like to hold you tightly. Inhale your scent. Carry you in his arms until your knee is fine. And he’d like to kiss you like he did when you were a couple. But he know he can’t. He know he lost every right. Something slips out anyway.
You still look… breathtakingly gorgeous.