After He Let Me Catch a Fever, I Walked Away

My boyfriend seemed to hold a grudge, wanting to teach me a lesson. Even as I lay there sick, he waited for me to admit I was wrong. That night, my fever shot up to 104 degrees, leaving me utterly miserable. Yet, I overheard him on the phone with a friend. "I did it on purpose. I wanted to teach her a lesson." "She's an adult and still can't look after herself." "There are millions of people in this city caught in the rain; did they all call their boyfriends for help?" I bit my lip as tears streamed down my face, questioning whether he was right. I resolved not to bother him anymore. But there he was, trailing behind me, his demeanor softening. "Could you... just be sweet to me once more?"

On my way to work, the skies opened up, and I got caught in a downpour. Despite having an umbrella, I ended up thoroughly drenched. To top it off, it was also the first day of my period, leaving me at my weakest. When I reached the office, I tried drying myself off while calling my boyfriend. "Otto, could you bring me a change of clothes? I'm soaked and freezing." It would take him about twenty minutes to get to my office. Otto had the day off, so he should have had the time. But his response was calm and detached. "Why didn't you check the weather and bring an umbrella?" "Can't you borrow some clothes from a colleague?" "Ever thought about the fact that I'd get wet too and might catch a cold?" "I had plans for today. Going out would ruin everything." Though there was a trace of concern in his tone, it was mostly criticism.

I turned on my computer, its screen glaring at me and making my eyes water more. I had a mountain of work to handle and no time to argue with Otto. I did have an umbrella, but the fierce winds rendered it useless. I interrupted him, softly pleading, "How about this, can you pack my clothes, and I'll send someone to pick them up?" Despite the terrible weather, there should be someone willing to make the delivery. Otto sighed and said, "I'll bring them myself. I'm just finishing up my morning routine. I'll head over when the rain lets up." With that reassurance, I tried to dry my clothes and hair as much as possible. The spring weather here is damp, making it hard to dry clothes. I hid in the bathroom with a hand dryer for ages but only managed to get them half-dry. Sipping hot coffee, I still shivered with cold, each minute dragging on endlessly.

I estimated that since I called Otto at half-past eight, he'd be here soon. But as the minutes ticked by, there was still no message from him. The torrential rain outside had long stopped. It had been two hours since I'd called Otto. Unable to wait any longer, I phoned him again to ask when he was coming. "I'm on the verge of getting sick. On the first day of my period, catching a chill means terrible cramps." He said he was on his way, just after finishing breakfast. Otto knew how cold I was, knew the intense pain that would leave me writhing. Yet, he spent several hours making breakfast instead? Without thinking, I blurted out, "Breakfast that takes two hours? Didn't I tell you I'm cold? I'm soaked through." My words hung in the silence. Otto always paused before speaking when he was annoyed. Sure enough, after a few seconds, he calmly said, "Yasmin, you can't be so selfish. Just because you're cold doesn't mean I should skip breakfast to deliver clothes to you." His words left me speechless. He was right. My discomfort was my own problem. It had nothing to do with my boyfriend. To him, forty minutes was precious, and eating breakfast was important. At least, more important than me shivering all morning. I stood there, feeling a surge of inexplicable hurt. I wondered if I truly was being unreasonable. But when I was a kid, if it rained, my parents would bring me an umbrella and clothes. They cared about my comfort, why didn't my boyfriend? Holding back tears, I said, "I'll call for delivery then, don't worry about coming." Otto insisted I shouldn’t rush. "I'm almost done, hang in there."

It was noon when I finally saw Otto and received the dry clothes. He was my boyfriend of five years, yet at that moment, he seemed like a stranger. Otto didn't linger, leaving swiftly. Watching his retreating back, so eager to go, my throat tightened. I wasn't sure if it was because of the cold or the heartache. I took the clothes to the bathroom to change, only to bump into a coworker who exclaimed, "Yasmin, your face is really red. Are you feeling sick?" I turned to look in the mirror. Indeed, my cheeks were flushed—a clear sign of sickness. Even my coworker could see it, yet my boyfriend couldn’t. I suddenly felt a wave of disillusionment. I had always believed Otto loved me. Perhaps that was just an illusion.