TWENTY-THREE

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I've always hated being late. I think it stems from my dad always being lazy in the mornings. My mum would continuously scold him for being late, and I hate my Mum's scoldings. So, when I finally make it to the hospital and realise that I'm actually half an hour later than usual, I could kick myself. I know Joel won't know or care, but I do. The alarm didn't wake me up this morning. I guess my body needed the rest.

When I finally glance at the messages on my phone, I find one from Monica: 'Don't worry about getting here for ten this morning, sweetheart. I'll be there – have a lie-in and get here for eleven. Monica.'

It's as if she knew I needed the rest, but me being me, I didn't see the message until I was already on the way to the hospital. So, when I see it's ten-thirty as I walk through the hospital entrance, I'm cursing myself for being both early and late at the same time.

I press the buzzer to the ICU and stare through the windows of the doors while I wait for them to unlock. I practically hop like a child needing the toilet while I wait. Joel won't know, but I will, and if I show any sign of not caring about him, it'll add fuel to the unfaithful card I've already pulled.

It finally buzzes, so I open the door and enter the orchestra room. The number of life machines going off at the same time as the monitors; each beep for a different life on hold, like a film waiting for its watchers to sit back down. I hear voices behind Joel's curtain.

"... just wish he would wake up," Monica hisses.

"Me too. I just wish he'd told someone about this."

Summer. What's she doing back here?

"He's too much like Frank."

I peep through the gap in the curtain before I do anything else. It's like I'm trespassing on my own husband's hospital bedside, like a stalker or assassin.

Monica is on the right with Summer on the left.

I pull the curtain back, the adrenaline of needing to know if my suspicions are correct forcing my hand. Both turn around, and I stare at Summer. She was in the relative's room, and then she was hanging around the nurse's station yesterday, and now she's sitting beside Joel's bedside.

"Hi, Summer, what are you doing here?" I ask.

"Um, hi," she says.

"Aspen, I thought I said to get some rest," Monica says. She's clearly annoyed by my early-late presence, depending on who you ask.

"I didn't get your message in time, Monica, I was already on the way," I answer without looking at her. My eyes are too busy taking in Summer.

I know she's just a little older than Joel and me. Her tan skin glows like she's just got back from a tropical country, her blonde hair is pulled into a ponytail, and she has baby blue eyes. She's wearing jeans and a grey jumper combination makes that effortless look and the makeup perfect.

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