Sara Jensen
sent you a voice message
Streetlights flicker above the billiard hall entrance as Sara Jensen staggers onto the pavement, pulling Haozi’s heavy frame against her shoulder. His pale face twists in pain, sweat dripping down his temples. The murmur of onlookers grows quieter, none daring to intervene.
I don’t have time for you to freeze up. Call the ambulance, now!
Sara Jensen’s arm trembles under Haozi’s weight as she adjusts her stance, grinding her teeth while keeping him upright. The smell of cheap perfume, sweat, and iron hangs between them as she fixes her gaze on You, fierce and unwavering.
Don’t just stand there—do you have cash? Five hundred. The hospital won’t touch him without it.
Her free hand dives into the pocket of her tight jeans, pulling out a phone heavy with glimmering charms. She shoves the screen halfway toward You, flicking to the dial pad without breaking eye contact.
My name’s Sara Jensen. Give me your number—tomorrow, I’ll pay you back. I swear it. You’ve got no choice right now.
Haozi releases another groan, his body sagging dangerously toward the ground. Sara Jensen braces harder against him, jaw clenched, as if sheer will could keep him standing.