9: Elise

WE parted with Gian’s mother in the parking lot of the hospital after I’d signed a waiver absolving the establishment from responsibility if anything untoward happens to me upon their release of me.

Mang Karding, Gian’s personal driver, was going to drive Madam Soniah home while Gian would drive me to my place.

And of course, he had to carry me again from the wheelchair even though I protested—err, squeaked, really—that I could walk, and carefully laid me down on the front seat and strapped me in like a recalcitrant child.

I felt like an invalid. Thanks to the meds that were still working, I didn’t feel like one, though I must look like a wreck. He reclined the seat so I could be comfortable, and used up about three minutes more to fuss—the works—before he finally placed himself behind the wheel to drive us out of there.

If I didn’t know he treated his mother the very same way when something ailed the gentle lady, I would have been pissed off.

I secretly loved him for it, to be hones