Chapter 6
I didn’t have time to think. My soul followed Harold out of the anatomy
room and back home.
My birthday cake was still on the table at home.
The frosting had melted and slumped down onto the table.
Harold walked right past it without looking.
I thought he was tired and wanted to rest.
But then he stopped in front of my bedroom door.
He looked kind of awkward like he was hesitating about something.
After a while, he raised his hand like he wanted to knock, but then he stopped before he even touched the door.
After a bit, Harold put his arm down and pulled out his phone.
I drifted over and watched him open WhatsApp.
Lilian’s chat was at the top.
Harold scrolled down for a long time before he found the chat with me.
Our conversation history was really short.
Harold tapped on the input box and typed: “Are you asleep?”
He paused for a moment, then deleted it.
After a pause, he typed again: “Didn’t you want to celebrate your
Chapter 6
birthday? Lilian and I will make it up to you tomorrow.”
I felt a bit bitter.
I begged for it before, but he wouldn’t give it.
Now he would, but it was too late.
Harold didn’t know that I was the one who jumped.
But it looked like it already got to him.
He watched the message go out like he’d let out a breath he’d been holding.
Then he turned and went back to his room.
The first thing Harold did when he woke up at eight in the morning was to unlock his phone.
He opened WhatsApp and checked our chat.
But it was quiet with no reply.
He frowned and was about to call me.
Just then, the door banged.
Harold kicked off the blanket and got out of bed.
As soon as he opened the door, Lilian threw herself into his arms and said in a weak voice, “Harold, I think I have a fever.”
Harold got serious right away.
He quickly felt her forehead and said, “Yeah, you’re a bit hot.”
Lilian, still in Harold’s arms, started to cry. “Take me to the hospital. I feel
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terrible.”
Harold patted her gently. “Okay. Don’t cry. We’ll go right now.”
Then he took her and rushed downstairs.
This kind of thing had happened many times over the past ten years.
Harold was always worried about anything that happened to Lilian.
I didn’t want to follow them, but my soul dragged me along.
So I ended up at the hospital with them.
Harold took Lilian to get registered, see the doctor, and pay the bill.
The doctor said Lilian was fine and just needed some medicine.
But she kept saying she felt awful and wanted an IV drip.
After all that, Harold sat by her bedside and fed her some oatmeal.
From the next bed, a kid asked, “Mom, can I have cake when I get better?”
Harold’s hand with the bowl stopped for a second.
But then he kept feeding Lilian, blowing on the oatmeal to cool it down.
“Once this IV drip is done, we’ll go home,” he said.
