She held it close, still trembling a little.
“It’s still cold…”
His eyes moved.
Then they landed on me. On the scarf wrapped around my neck. A soft wool scarf. The last thing my grandmother made before she passed.
“Give that to her,” he said.
My fingers tightened instantly.
“T-this was made by my grandma,” I said quietly, my voice barely steady. “It’s not something I can just—”
“I know exactly what it is,” he cut me off, his tone turning colder. “She’s just borrowing it. Why are you making it such a big deal?”
My throat felt tight. I held the scarf for a second longer and slowly, I took it off. My hands felt cold the moment it left my skin.
I stepped forward and handed it over.
Amber took it, her expression soft, almost guilty.
“Thank you… I’ll clean it and give it back to you.”
“No,” I said quickly, shaking my head. “Don’t wash it yourself. It can’t be soaked. It needs special care. I’ll have someone pick it up tomorrow.”
“Oh okay,” she nodded gently.
The car pulled up outside.
Hudson glanced at her again, noticing her pale face.
Then he looked at me.
“Amber’s not feeling well,” he said, already opening the car door for her. “I’m taking her home first. It’s not on the way for you, so just go back yourself.”
I didn’t even get the chance to answer.
He helped her into the car, careful, like she might break.
The car door shut, the engine started, and the black sedan disappeared into the rain like I was never there. I stood at the entrance, my dress getting soaked, the cold wind cutting straight through me. The streets were empty, rain pouring so hard it blurred everything. I waited… and waited. Forty minutes before I could even get a cab. By the time I got home, I was shaking, completely drenched, my head spinning. My forehead burned but I still forced myself to take some medicine, then I just dropped onto the bed and passed out.
Sometime in the night, my phone kept vibrating. Again and again. I heard it but I couldn’t move. My head hurt too much, my body too heavy. I just let it ring until it finally stopped.
The next morning, the fever went down a little, but my throat felt like sandpaper. I sat up slowly, took a sip of water, then reached for my phone. There were more than a dozen messages.
All from Amber.
My fingers paused… then I opened it.
The first photo hit me like a slap.
My scarf.