Irene patiently waited for Ilyan. She actually did not have trouble doing that for she had quite a lot of things to invest her attention in. Had she been sitting idle, she might have grown restless. Her mind went back to the confrontation that she had just had with Ayden. Her downcast eyes found her blood-stained feet. Her life was no different than them. A mess. A total mess. A disastrous mess.
What could she do about that? Her feet could be treated. She was not going to get worked up over the small abrasion of her skin but what about her life? What about her broken heart? How were they going to get fixed? Would they ever get fixed? She did not know.
Just then, the door of her side opened and there stood Ilyan, with his hands clutching the wheelchair.
A small smile slid across her face at how thoughtful he was being but at the same time, the guilt started taking over her once she recalled her harsh words, rude tone, and unacceptable attitude toward him until a while ago.
She had to temporarily keep it aside for he had snapped his fingers in front of her, asking her to get down. She could not comfortably manage to place herself in the wheelchair but she nonetheless got herself there.
He locked the car before starting to push the wheelchair inside.
"Does it hurt?" he asked on the way.
"Not much," she replied.
"It's going to be okay," he comforted.
"I am not sure," she hesitated.
"I am," he assured.
By the time they finished with their little conversation that held her fear and his assurance, they made it inside the hospital. They were directed toward a particular room after Ilyan explained it to the reception of what they were there for.
A young female doctor did a quick check-up and revealed that though it looked terrible, it was actually not that bad. She told them that she would send a nurse who would do the dressing.
Irene gave a grateful smile to the doctor, thanking her. Once the doctor left, Irene and Ilyan were left alone to wait for the nurse to show up.
"Don't you want to ask me anything?" Irene began, feeling kind of weird that Ilyan had not even touched the topic after all the drama Ayden had created in front of him, after all the accusations Ayden had put over him that were ridiculously embarrassing for her, and after all the physical jerks Ayden had given him.
Ilyan was leaning against the wall beside the door when he heard her. "What?"
"About everything that happened a few minutes ago?" she said it like it was obvious. Was it not?
His expressions told her otherwise.
"Oh well, if you want to share, I would like to listen. If you do not want to, I don't have a problem. Either way, it is cool."
She would be lying if she said that she was not surprised. How the heck was he not questioning her after the entire fiasco? He had the right to demand an explanation because he was dragged in her mess by Ayden and was subjected to the disgusting remarks and threats.
How was she supposed to respond? Ideally, she should be at least apologizing on Ayden's behalf because Ayden was not going to do that. Besides, she was the dominant reason for it.
Just as she was about to voice out an apology, the door was pushed and the nurse clad in the blue outfit which seemed like the dress code for the nurses in that hospital entered. Irene had watched a lot of them wearing the same thing when they were walking to that room.
The room fell in silence as the nurse quietly finished cleaning up and the dressing of her feet.
"How did this happen?" the nurse asked while she was putting back the stuff she used for dressing back in the medical kit box.
"Nothing much," Irene spoke, trying to shrug it away.
"Be careful from now onwards," the nurse advised.
"I will." Irene bowed her head down.
Ilyan helped her get back on the wheelchair. She had forgotten her bag in the orphanage so he paid for the hospital bill and she promised to return the money soon.
<>
"Do you need your bag now? I can drive you to the orphanage."
"No, I just wanna go home," she told him in a tired voice.
Her bag did not have anything important that she could not pass the day without.
When they reached her place, he extended his hand out for her. He had been really thoughtful all along so she quite did not mind just letting him help her. The pain was anyway hitting her hard, now that her mind was slowly getting empty.
Once they were inside, and he made her sit on the couch, he took a quick look at his surrounding.
"Pretty home," he complimented.
"Thanks. Do you need water or something?" she asked, about to steady herself on her feet when he gestured her to stop.
"I don't. Perhaps, you do. Just let me know where it is and I will bring it for you."
"No, no, I mean, it's okay." She waved her hand as a gesture of denial but he was stubborn. He continued asking her until she pointed at the dining table at the front.
He flashed a smile. He had already seen it. It was too visible for him not to notice but he needed her permission to go ahead.
He was quite quick in bringing water for her. He handed her the glass and sat across her in the chair as gestured by her.
"Do you live alone?" he asked.
"No. With my aunt," she replied.
"Oh, when is she going to return?"
"I don't know. She is yet to inform me but probably soon."
"I can keep you company until she comes back if you want."