Max pulls a chair next to me and sits down, holding my hand. “Hey, Liv,” he says gently.

I peel both eyes open and blink at the blurriness. “I need a drink.” I manage in a hoarse whisper, my throat so dry it feels stuck together.

“The nurse is just bringing you some water.” he soothes.

It feels like evening, but it must still be morning, unless the operation took way longer than expected. The room is dimly lit and cosy. I blink and look around. The curtains are closed and the slightest trace of daylight is trying to peep around them. A nurse appears and greets us warmly.

“How are we?” she asks.

“My throat is sore,” I tell her.

“Yes, that’s from the breathing tube they use during the op. Let’s get you a sip of water.”

I try to sit up, but the nurse puts her hand on my shoulder. “Just relax, these beds do all the work for you, you know.” She unhooks the control from the side of the bed and begins raising me into a sitting position. From here I can see better and I glance around for another person, feeling like not everyone is accounted for. But it’s just Max and the nurse going about her business. My heart sinks with disappointment, I don’t know what I was expecting, but I felt whole again for a moment when I was awoken by a loving touch. I know I hate Danny, but I know in my heart I thought it was him in the room and in that split second everything seemed right with the world. It was obviously a drug-induced dream and the reality is far more of a nightmare.

“Are you in any pain?” she asks.

Not physically, I want to say. It’s just this aching hole in my chest where my heart should be…But I keep it in. “No, not really.” I reply, forcing myself back to the present. I can’t wallow in this right now, tempting as it is. I have to get better.

“Well, if you feel like it is getting too much just press this button and one of us will see about a top-up.” She busies herself with checking my pulse and blood pressure. Once she is satisfied, she says, “Dr Andrews will be along a little later to chat to you, but I understand the surgery was a complete success. Now you just rest.”

After she leaves us, I turn to Max. “Who were you talking to?”

He frowns. “When?”

“Just before, I could hear your voice, but I couldn’t work out who you were talking to.” Max’s face blanches and he looks guilty, but maybe I’m looking for something that isn’t there. He thinks for a moment and then shrugs. “Just the nurse probably.” I sigh in disappointment. In my hazy dream-state, I hoped Danny had come. I hate myself for it, but for that moment I felt like it would make everything okay again. How desperate am I? I’m not going to admit that to Max though. It’s far too humiliating.

“How are you feeling?” he asks.

Pathetic, I think …“Tired.” I reply. I had as good a night’s sleep as it is possible to have in hospital. At about 3am there was some sort of emergency down the corridor. The alarm went off at the nurses’ station just outside my door and every pair of feet in the place seemed to go thundering down the corridor. With all the excitement happening around me, the constant observations carried out by the nurses and the pain, it wasn't a restful night.

“Sorry I wasn’t here when you went into surgery this morning,” he says.

“That’s okay, they took me earlier than they said.”

“Can I get you anything?”

“You can find out if I’m allowed to eat something, I haven’t eaten since yesterday lunchtime and I’m starving. What time is it?” I ask.

Max looks at his watch. “Four thirty.”

“What? How long did the surgery take?”

“About an hour and a half, you came back here at eleven and you’ve been in and out ever since.”

“Oh.”

“The nurse has been backwards and forwards, she says it’s normal. Some people just go under fairly deep.”

“Have you been here the whole time?” I ask.

“Yep.” He smiles. “I’ll go and find out if you can eat. What do you want?”

“Something good.” I grin and sip my water.

For the first time I think about my ankle and as Max goes out to the nurse, I have a look under the covers at what is keeping me here. At first I’m surprised that it’s not in a cast. Instead it’s wrapped in bandages. It looks like a comedy broken leg, it’s huge. Fear stops me testing it and as I look at it I feel strangely detached. Luckily the cut on my head is nothing, because I didn’t black out. I suppose I might have a scar, but I scar myself willingly in every colour of the rainbow, so a natural one isn’t exactly something I will worry about. It’s right in my hairline anyway.

Max comes back with a thumb’s up. “She says you can have whatever you like, so Josh is on his way over with a goody bag from Jake.”

“You’re a star.” I smile. I don’t know what I would do without him. But things should have been so different.

“No problem.” He grins. “Anything else?”

“Yeah, can I have a hug?” I feel suddenly needy and emotional. He rushes over and squeezes me a bit too tight, but I don’t care. I need him.

“Hey, it’s okay,” he soothes. “I’m here.”

“Sorry,” I say, my voice strained with emotion as I wipe big tears from my eyes.

Max sits back and assesses me while keeping hold of my hand. He says nothing, just stares. Maybe he doesn’t know what to say. It’s almost unheard of for him to not know how to help me. We are so in tune that we normally alienate people, so this is a strange experience. I know he completely disagrees with my decision to cut Danny off. But he is usually more vocal when we have a difference of opinion. He probably feels like he can’t say anything because I’m fragile now. Who knew injuring myself would actually protect me?

I’m just finishing my club sandwich with a side of chips, when the surgeon appears at the door. I guiltily put the rubbish in the bag and Max scurries away to dispose of it.

“Don’t stop on my account he insists, we like a healthy appetite around here.” He jokes.

“It’s fine, I was finished anyway,” I say and wipe my mouth.

“So, everything went perfectly this morning,” he says, all business. He goes over to the light panel on the wall beside me and switches it on. Then he slots my x-ray onto the front. It looks grizzly.

“You can see here, you have shattered everything in this area. We call it a trimalleolar fracture.” He sounds way too jolly. “To repair it, we have made two incisions here and here.” He points to each side of my ankle. “And we have used a plate and screws to secure the pieces of bone where we want them and hold them there while they heal back together.”

He swaps the x-ray for a new one that looks a million times grizzlier. Max walks back in at that moment and baulks at the sight of the x-ray, which looks like something from a hospital drama. The surgeon points to a large screw that goes horizontally across the ankle. “This screw is temporary, we will need to remove it in a few weeks. The rest are permanent.” He smiles.

“Now, you won’t be able to bear any weight whatsoever on this foot for about six weeks until the bones have sufficiently knitted together, particularly while this screw is still in. Once we have taken out your stitches, we will put you in a proper cast. Until then, you are sporting this.” He laughs. “It’s a metal back slab, it will be quite weighty.”

“Wow. That’s a lot to take in.” I exhale.

“We will give you pain relief and anti-inflammatories to take home. You will need to keep it elevated as much as possible, I’d say the majority of the time. You’ll obviously use crutches to get around, making sure that this foot stays off the ground at all times.” He thinks for a moment. “I might even see if I can get you a wheelchair for a couple of weeks.”

“Brilliant,” I mutter. Max stifles a laugh.

“Are you able to organise things at home to accommodate you while you recover?”

Max isn’t able to stifle the laugh this time. “Well I live alone, in the flat above my busy restaurant and bar and the only access is via a long staircase.” I reply, while shooting Max a ‘thanks-so-much-for-your-love-and-support’ look.

“Oh,” he replies.

“She can stay with us.” Max kindly offers.

“No, I want to be at home,” I insist. “Once I’m up, or down, the stairs, I’ll be fine. You will have to help me.”

“We have to make sure you can safely negotiate stairs before you go home. The first couple of weeks will be the hardest, while you have this heavy bandage, but I want you to try and rest with your leg elevated as much as possible, so you’ll be fine.”

He leaves us, promising that I would be discharged tomorrow morning after meeting the physio and being checked over once more.

“Can I push you around?” Max asks excitedly, falling about laughing. “And can we get some of those flashing wheels?”

“Oh fuck off!” I snap.

“Sorry,” he says, hanging his head slightly.

The physiotherapist arrives at my doorway bearing crutches and a wheelchair. Max is once again incorrigible. She shows me how to get myself into and out of the chair and how to put the leg rest up to keep it elevated. I’m astonished at the weight of this massive bandage, it weighs a ton. I’m glad I’m supposed to rest it as I don’t fancy carting it around much.

Once she’s happy that I’m not a complete danger to myself, she gets me up on the crutches.

“This thing is so heavy, how am I supposed to keep it off the ground?” I ask in frustration.

“Well you will be resting it most of the time. I just need to show you how to do the basics.”

Stairs on crutches are a nightmare! I give it my best effort and she seems satisfied, then she shows me two exercises she wants me to do every day, to keep everything moving, and then finally leaves me alone to rest.