Jasmine
“It’s okay, Walter; you don’t need to take sick a leave from the office,” I continue to persuade him.
“Babe—”
“I mean it. You could come over to the house later; I’m literally not going anywhere. It doesn’t hurt as much anyway.” I sigh, sitting upright in bed, carefully adjusting the pillow under my left leg.
As much as I hate being here, the second we got to New York, Vladimir drove me home, and we haven’t said a word to each other ever since. It’s been two hours since then, and he hasn’t come to check up on me. Not like I even want to see his stupid face.
“Okay, I’ll come over after work. Would it be okay if I sleep over?” he asks, and I can hear the worry in his tone.
“Walter, you don’t need to ask; we’re adults. Of course you can,” I say, a familiar warmth blooming
