The Coldest Lesson in Love

It was the seventh day of my hospital stay for a leg fracture. I was in the middle of a heated hand of Gin Rummy with a few other patients when my phone buzzed. It was Arthur.

"Where are you?" he asked, his voice clipped and efficient.

"On a business trip. I told you three times already," I said, my eyes fixed on my cards, heart barely fluttering at the sound of his voice for the first time in years.

There was a beat of silence. Then, "Hazel. Look up."

I froze. I slowly raised my gaze toward the door of the ward.