I knew Sarah was a loner. She lived alone, kept to herself, and had no one to lean on. The thought of leaving her to navigate this alone gnawed at me, but I pushed it aside for now. She needed space, but she also needed care—whether she’d admit it or not.
Sarah’s gaze flickered toward Marina, who was carefully pouring soup into a bowl, the steam rising in delicate curls. Sarah’s cheeks flushed with embarrassment as she spoke, her voice barely above a murmur.
"Marina... I’m sorry about last night. I didn’t mean to—" She swallowed hard, her fingers tightening around the edge of the blanket. "If you want to file a complaint against me, I understand."
Marina paused, the ladle hovering over the bowl. She shook her head, her expression softening. "Officer Sarah, I don’t blame you." She set the bowl down and met Sarah’s gaze.
"I know my husband can be... difficult. He has a habit of teasing people, but trust me, he’d never hurt you. He was just being his usual idiot self."
Sarah’s shoulders sagged slightly, the tension in her body easing just a fraction. "I know," she murmured, but the guilt still lingered in her eyes.
I pulled out one of my cards and handed it to Marina. "Take this. Settle the hospital bill with it." My voice was firm, leaving no room for argument.
Then, I turned back to Sarah, sliding an arm behind her shoulders to help her sit up. She stiffened for a moment before relaxing into my support, her body tense with reluctance.
I reached for the bowl of soup, but Sarah’s voice stopped me. "I can do it myself."
I raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at the corner of my mouth. "Oh? Tell me how."
Sarah’s cheeks burned crimson as she realized the absurdity of her statement. Her hands were still wrapped in plaster, her arms immobilized. "I..." She trailed off, frustration flashing across her face.
I chuckled softly. "Okay, don’t say anything." I dipped the spoon into the soup and brought it to her lips. "Open up."
She hesitated for a second before parting her lips, sipping the warm broth. The tension in her shoulders eased slightly as she swallowed, but her mind was clearly elsewhere. "Let me call my brother," she said after a moment, her voice tinged with urgency. "He can pick me up."
Sarah’s eyes met mine, but her voice faltered, her words catching in her throat. There was something unspoken hanging between us, a tension I couldn’t ignore. I knew what she was trying to say—she didn’t want me to meet her brother.
Maybe she feared how he’d react, or perhaps she was protecting me from something she couldn’t bring herself to explain. But what she didn’t realize was that it was already too late. Her brother was gone, taken from this world in a way she hadn’t yet discovered.
I set the bowl down on the bedside table and met her gaze. "First, finish the soup. Then you can call him."
Sarah’s eyes flickered with something unreadable—annoyance, maybe, or embarrassment. "I know what you’re thinking," she muttered, her voice dropping. "You’re wondering why I don’t want you meeting him."
I didn’t respond immediately, letting the silence stretch between us. Then, quietly, I said, "I know. And I’ll avoid him if that’s what you want. I’m not here to make things harder for you."
She took another sip of soup, her gaze fixed on the bowl as if it held all the answers. The door creaked open, and Marina stepped back into the room.
Sarah’s body tensed, her cheeks flushing again, as if she’d been caught doing something forbidden. "I—don’t get me wrong, Marina," she stammered. "He was just... helping me. Yeah. Helping me."
Marina’s lips quirked into a knowing smile. "Officer Sarah, don’t worry. I know." She winked, her tone light, but there was a warmth in her eyes that made Sarah’s embarrassment deepen.
Sarah ducked her head, her face burning with a mix of shame and something else—something raw and almost vulnerable. "Yeah," she mumbled, her voice so quiet it was nearly swallowed by the hum of the hospital machines.
I picked up the spoon again, dipping it into the soup and bringing it to her lips. The room was wrapped in silence, broken only by the soft clink of the spoon against the bowl and the distant, muffled sounds of the hospital—nurses’ footsteps, the beep of monitors, the occasional murmur of voices down the hall. Sarah’s lashes fluttered as she took another sip, her gaze flickering away from mine, as if she couldn’t bear to meet my eyes for too long.
After a few more spoonfuls, I set the bowl aside and turned to Marina. "Can you help her change?" I asked, my voice low but clear. "I’ll step out."
Marina nodded, a playful glint in her eyes. "Of course. I’ve got her."
I slipped out of the room, pulling the door shut behind me, but not all the way. The gap was just wide enough for the murmur of their voices to reach me.
Inside the room, Marina immediately set to work, her tone light and teasing. "Alright, Officer Sarah, let’s get you out of this gown. You can’t exactly go home in this, can you?" She laughed softly, the sound warm and easy.
Sarah shifted awkwardly on the bed, her cheeks still flushed. "Marina, I can manage—"
"Oh, please," Marina interrupted, waving a hand dismissively. "You can barely move your arms, and I’m not about to let you struggle through this alone. Now, lift your hips a little—there you go."
Sarah let out a frustrated sigh but complied, her voice tinged with embarrassment. "This is so humiliating."
Marina clucked her tongue. "Humiliating? Officer, you just survived a car explosion. A little help getting dressed is nothing compared to that." She paused, then added with a grin, "Besides, it’s not like you’ve got anything I haven’t seen before."
Sarah’s eyes widened. "Marina!"
Marina laughed, unfazed. "What? It’s true! And honestly, Officer Sarah—"
"Just Sarah," Sarah cut in, her voice firm but lacking its usual bite.
Marina’s smile softened. "Sarah, then. You’ve got nothing to be embarrassed about. You’re strong, you’re brave, and you’re alive. That’s what matters."
Sarah exhaled, some of the tension leaving her shoulders. "Thanks, Marina."
Marina helped her into a fresh set of clothes—a loose shirt and sweatpants, easy to slip on over the casts. As she adjusted the fabric, she couldn’t resist one last tease.
"You know, Sarah, yours are as big as mine, but this—" She gently poked Sarah’s side, where the hospital gown had ridden up slightly. "—this is all you."
Sarah squirmed, letting out a half-laugh, half-protest. "Marina, don’t you dare pinch it."