He didn't press further, settling into a chair with a heavy sigh. "It's a luxury, being alive to send such messages, while some aren't so lucky."
That comment straightened her up, her attention piqued. "What happened?"
"The crash on the coastal highway earlier."
"The driver of the gray sedan was thrown off the cliff, they said he was practically gone before he hit the ground."
"The cops said there was a doctor right there. If she'd intervened within ten minutes, the man might've made it."
"Odd choice, though. She went for the guy in the Beetle, barely a scratch on him."
The doctor shook his head, still puzzled by the decision.
Jessica's face fell, a shadow of guilt passing over her.
As an ER doctor sworn to save lives, she usually throws herself into every emergency.
Normally, any loss hits her hard, and she mourns each one.
But this time, she had consciously made a choice to let someone go.
"He really died?" she asked, holding onto a sliver of hope.
Her colleague looked at her oddly. "Yeah, with those injuries? He was gone."
"Tragic, really. He's been dead almost a day, and no one's claimed him yet."
"By the way, you drive that route to work, right? Did you see anything that day?"
Reflexively, she shook her head. "I was in a hurry, didn't really notice."
He sighed deeply a few times, but she was already too distracted to listen.
She glanced at the clock, realizing her shift was nearly over, and quickly changed and grabbed her bag.
I followed her out of the hospital.
Outside, she kept glancing at her watch impatiently.
That jogged my memory.
Today was her father's birthday.
She's usually not one for family events, but she had made an exception to celebrate this time.
We had plans—I was supposed to pick her up, buy a cake, and go to her father's place.
But now, I was forever stuck on that coastal highway.
She waited nearly ten minutes, but I never appeared.
Frustrated, she pulled out her phone and tried calling me.
"The subscriber you are trying to reach is temporarily unavailable. Please try again later."
She frowned at the phone, irritation creeping into her expression.
She sent a flurry of texts in quick succession.
[Now, of all times, you choose to vanish?]
[Dad's not well, he can't deal with this stress. Can't you just play along?]
[I'm really disappointed in you.]
Confronted with her accusations, I remained silent.
Not that I didn't want to respond—I simply couldn't.