The subway was packed like sardines, and I lost a shoe in the crowd, having to go to work with one foot bare.
I texted her about it, but it took ages for her to reply.
Finally, I received a message from her, mocking me for being unable to handle a little hardship.
Initially, I thought Eric was just a close classmate of hers, but during a class reunion, someone let it slip that Cynthia had been entangled with Eric for many years.
After that, I made it clear, both directly and indirectly, that I wanted her to keep her distance from Eric.
Yet, she continued as if nothing had changed.
Whenever I expressed even the slightest dissatisfaction, Cynthia would look at me with her enchanting eyes, as if I were a disappointment.
"Eric is a doctor; connections like that are hard to come by. When our family has health issues, who else will we turn to but Eric?"
I told her that we could see a doctor through proper channels and that she didn't need to compromise herself for someone like him.
Cynthia had once confessed to me how deeply hurt she was when she broke up with Eric, losing seven pounds in a week.
I didn't want to see her suffer because of his presence again.
Cynthia looked at me with indifference. "Liam, have you lost your mind? In this day and age, if you don't have some connections, which doctor is going to take you seriously at the hospital? If it weren't for our past relationship, we wouldn't even have the chance to know someone like Eric!"
Her argument was too solid for me to counter.
But when my dad suffered a brain hemorrhage and was hospitalized, the usually proactive Cynthia fell silent.
I tentatively suggested she ask Eric for help in reviewing the scans, but she quickly grew impatient.
"Liam, aren't you making things difficult? Eric is a massage therapist; he can't possibly look at brain scans!"
"Cynthia, didn't you say Eric was doing well at the hospital? Can't he help find someone who can?" I nearly begged her, thinking of my father's condition.
"Ugh, are you annoying me? Eric hasn't graduated yet; he wouldn't dare ask those big-shot doctors for favors. Just take a leave and go home to find a doctor there!" Cynthia's tone was icy, her refusal unwavering.
I turned over in frustration.
She claimed Eric wasn't a cardiologist, so he wouldn't help with my dad's scans.
But he wasn't a dermatologist either—why could Cynthia send him intimate photos?