After some time, I heard the sound of a key turning in the lock, indicating that Jared had returned home. I watched silently as he entered the living room, wearing a pair of sweat pants, a black tank top and a white tee. “You shouldn’t be standing up yet, you still have a concussion,” Jared murmured, looking concerned as he moved towards the coffee table.
“Then you don’t need to sit here. Just give me my phone. I can use it to message my family and arrange everything to be moved to the new apartment tomorrow,” I said in a quiet voice as I grabbed my phone from the cushion that made up the seat beside the sofa. My gaze fell to my hands, and I held them tightly together as I thought about what I would be telling my family about what had happened to me. How I was injured and how they would r
