"What the hell are you doing?!" Raphael shouted, his voice laced with panic as he reached for my wrist. The car swerved slightly as he tried to regain control with one hand.
"Stop being unreasonable, Nadine!"
"Let go of me!" I struggled, trying to pull free from his grasp.
The car veered dangerously to the side, tires screeching against the asphalt. My pulse pounded in my ears. Everything was happening too fast.
Before I could even process it, our car crashed.
I felt my body being thrown forward, the world spinning as the windshield exploded into tiny shards.
For a brief moment, there was only weightlessness.
And then, darkness swallowed me whole.
When I regained consciousness, I could feel the ache in my body, a dull, persistent pain radiating from my head down to my limbs.
A thick brace supported my neck, an oxygen mask covered my face, and the weight of an IV tugged at my arm.
But what caught my attention first was the warmth of my hand. Someone was holding it.
I forced my heavy eyelids open, my vision hazy as I turned my head slightly, expecting to see Raphael.
And there he was. Sitting beside my hospital bed, his face bruised but otherwise unharmed, save for a few minor abrasions.
He was relaxed, seated comfortably, a stark contrast to my state.
But, since the anger still coiled in my stomach, with the last of my strength, I pulled my hand away from his grasp.
Raphael's fingers twitched at the sudden loss of contact. His sharp eyes flickered to me, widening with relief as he realized I was awake.
"Nadine..." His voice was breathless, laced with concern. He leaned forward, reaching out instinctively. "Are you okay? Does anything hurt?"
I did not answer. I was too disgusted with his act. By the way he looked at me with such concern.
My silence made him panic. His brows furrowed and he said hurriedly, standing up, "I’ll call the doctor. They need to check you again—make sure there’s no internal injury."
Minutes later, after the examination, they removed my neck brace and oxygen mask. My head was still throbbing, my limbs weak, but aside from the IV in my arm, I was stable.
"You’re lucky," the doctor had said. "It could have been much worse."
Raphael lingered by my bedside, his fingers brushing against my hair in a way that would have once comforted me.
"I’ll take care of the administration first," he murmured, his voice softer now.