The Return of Amanda (sequel to For the Last Time)

Chapter 25

A/N: The image above does not belong to me. It belongs to the person who uploaded it on the internet.

Perth's POV

Saint did not even wait for me to say, "Okay" when he said "Excuse me".

He had rushed out of the front door with his ringing phone.

For some reason, my heart started to feel heavy. I did not want to entertain the thought that Saint was cheating on me but still, I was wondering why he needed to step out of our unit just to take that call. I started to wonder who was calling him.

Suddenly the glass of guava juice did not taste good to me anymore. I set the glass down on the coffee table and picked up Saint's glass of cold water. I drank thirstily from it. I felt the cold liquid go down my throat. The cold seemed to spread down to my heart. Before I knew it, I had finished up all the water that was in Saint's glass. I set the glass back down on the coffee table.

Shit, I must have banged it too hard on the coffee table because the glass shattered into several pieces.

I tried to pick up one of the broken pieces but in my emotional state of mind I did not realize that I had picked it up from its jagged side.

I gasped when I felt the sharp sting and saw the spurt of blood trickling from the cut.

Shit, this was my second time to get my finger cut. First it was my index finger. Now it was my ring finger, dammit.

I carefully placed the glass piece that had cut me onto the coffee table and then wheeled myself to the bathroom to fetch the first aid kit.

I stood up from my wheelchair to take it out of the cabinet behind the mirror.

For some reason, I either lost my balance or my knees could not take my weight because suddenly I found myself lying on the bathroom floor, my finger still bleeding and the drops of blood spreading on the bathroom tiles.

"Perth?" I heard the front door opening and Saint calling my name.

I could not call back to let him know that I was in the bathroom. My voice seemed to have caught in my throat.

Suddenly the bathroom door got flung open.

"Perth! Ohmygahd Perth!"

Saint helped me up from my lying position.

Tears were running down Saint's cheeks as he sat me back in my wheelchair.

"What happened to your hand? Why is it bleeding?" his voice sounded very much alarmed when he saw my finger, the blood still trickling from the cut. It must have been a deeper cut than I had originally thought.

"I broke your glass on the coffee table," I managed to say weakly.

"And you tried to pick up the broken pieces," he concluded rightly for me.

"But I'm not able to pick up the broken pieces of my heart," I wanted to say but once more I could not find my voice.

"Here let me clean the cut and treat it," Saint said, opening the bathroom mirror cabinet to take out the first aid kit.

Just as he did earlier with my other cut, he sprayed some wound wash on it and then dabbed it dry with a gauze. Then he took out the tube of antibiotic ointment and used a cotton swab to apply some of the ointment on my cut. He then wrapped a breathable bandage around the affected finger.

"Did you want to tell me how you broke my drinking glass?" he asked after he placed the first aid kit back inside the bathroom mirror cabinet.

"No," I replied, and turned my face away from him so that he could not see the moisture in my eyes.

"Perth," Saint placed both of his hands firmly on either side of my face, willing me to look at him. "I have something to confess."