When I returned to the room, Dexter was still sitting on the floor, covered by the same blanket.
Resigned, I asked, "Isn't the floor cold?"
He was deliberately sitting on the floor.
Was he planning to sit there all night long if I had returned late? Was he doing all this just to guilt-trip me?
With teary eyes, Dexter looked at me begrudgingly and said, "My legs are numb
I stifled my laughter and scooted closer to check on him. "What did you do on the floor that made your legs numb?"
Dexter's ears turned red. 'You're so shameless now, Sophia-'
I couldn't help but tease, "Am I shameless, or are you the perverted one here?"
Dexter huffed and remained silent. I reached out to him, and he took my hand to help himself up.
Losing a leg meant nothing to Dexter as long as he knew that I was still alive. But it was like a bomb that exploded within me.
