It’s always easier to be angry and blame my shortcomings on others than to accept that maybe I’m the problem too.
I watch Marcel pull the armchair from across the room, moving it to position it just a few feet from my bedside, where I sit. He lowers himself to it, leaning back into the backrest as he brings his hand to the underside of his jaw, holding his chin between his thumb and index finger. His intense gaze holds me, a stoic look playing on his face.
What the hell is he doing..?
I arch a brow, slightly shaking my head as I say, “You can leave now.”
“No, I can’t.” He’s quick and without hesitation as he explains, “Before it gets better, it’s going to get worse. In a couple of hours, the pain in your shoulder is going to spike.” He pauses for a moment, studying the dejected look o
