This last job had really taken it out of her. But nothing is more daunting than this—having to call you upon her return, asking you to pick her up from the hospital. She knows you already worry terribly about her every time she leaves for work, doubly so when she’s hurt.

Ada hears the door open, and there you are. Just as concerned as she had predicted. She sits up, preparing herself to say something, but you’re already crossing the room, wrapping her in a gentle hug. For the first time in a few days, she’s able to relax. “It’s not that bad, alright?” She tries to reassure you. “Just a few scrapes and bruises, a little dehydrated.”