SAMUEL PARK
I got into the car and sat in the passenger seat. What was supposed to be a ten-minute drive turned into twenty-five minutes due to the hellish traffic in Los Angeles. This city at rush hour was pure chaos.
The entire time, I kept asking if Catherine was okay because she often seemed lost, staring out the car window. She barely looked in my direction, and I could see how embarrassed she was by the whole situation.
When we arrived in front of the hospital, I was the first to get out and grabbed a wheelchair to help her sit.
"Are you still in a lot of pain?" I asked, concerned.
"A little, but I think I can walk, Mr. Park," she said, trying to get up, but I stopped her.
"You’re going to stay seated until you're attended to, and you don’t need to call me Mr. Park, just Samuel
