Chapter 7
Category:
Urban
Author:
KiKiWords:828Update time:25/05/26 19:13:37
Dr. Damen is my primary physician.
He has recommended hospitalization as my headaches might become more frequent and could lead to persistent seizures.
I shook my head. "If it gets to that point, I'd likely have ended my own life. You know I can't stand suffering."
He frowned, watching me a while before sighing deeply.
Since I couldn't drive, he drove me home.
On the way, Dr. Damen glanced at me through the rearview mirror. "Does he still not know?"
He was clearly referring to Simon.
I murmured, "I haven't figured out how to tell him yet."
He paused. "I can hardly imagine his reaction."
I laughed. "He'd probably be relieved to have his freedom soon."
The affairs Simon has with me must be his biggest regret.
Otherwise, he wouldn’t be trapped by his obligation to me, forced by his parents.
Dr. Damen glanced at me and shook his head. "I once lied to him that you agreed to be with me after getting drunk, while I was holding the clothes you had on the night before. He misunderstood, thinking something had happened between us. He was furious."
I said, "He was angry because his parents forced him to break up with Eve."
Dr. Damen clicked his tongue. "Whatever."
As dusk fell, we passed a sports complex where vibrant youths were playing basketball.
I stared blankly for a moment.
"Stop here," I told Dr. Damen. "I'm not ready to go back yet. You're good at sports, right? I want to watch you play basketball."
"Me?" Dr. Damen hesitated. "Well, I can play football, but I haven’t touched a basketball in years."
After some coaxing, Dr. Damen rolled up his sleeves and reluctantly joined the game.
Tall, with long limbs, he initially struggled but soon found his rhythm.
After a beautiful three-pointer, I couldn't help but scream.
Dr. Damen wiped the sweat from his brow and turned to me with pride.
Not far away, I noticed a familiar figure.
Dressed in a shirt and trousers with his sleeves rolled up to the elbows, he gazed blankly at the basketball court.
I knew about the long, ghastly scar on the outside of his arm.
It was from an accident when he saved me—twenty centimeters of laceration, a fracture, and steel pins.
Since then, nerve damage had impaired his hand function. He could no longer play the baseball and basketball he loved so much.
He couldn't even hold a glass steadily.