And even that guilty offer wasn't a fraction of what he'd prepared for Cassandra.
Something clenched hard in my chest, a pain so sharp it almost took my breath.
"Regina, what's your problem?"
"I already said I'd make it up to you. What more do you want?"
Morris's brow furrowed tight, as though I were the unreasonable one, the one who didn't know how to be considerate.
In all these years, I had rarely bothered him or disrupted his work.
I was about to speak when his phone rang.
He glanced at the screen, and the tension in his face melted away. He answered almost instantly.
"Morris, I think I have a fever. I feel so weak..."
The soft, helpless voice carried clearly through the quiet room.
I watched his pupils contract. He grabbed his jacket and turned for the door without a second thought, as if he'd forgotten his wife was standing right there.
"Cassandra, I'm taking you to the hospital. Get dressed and wait for me. I'll be there soon."
He hung up, pulled a bank card from the wallet on the shoe cabinet, and rushed toward the door.
"Morris."
I called his name.
He paused mid-step.
"Regina, Cassandra just got back to the country. I'm the only friend she has here."