The sound of someone knocking on my car window grew clearer. If I hadn't known it was Damar outside, I probably wouldn't have dared to open my car door.
"What's wrong?" he asked, his voice blending with the sound of the rain, making me strain my ears to hear him.
"It won't start," I answered, half shouting so he could hear me.
"Get out for a moment," he said. I hesitated but stepped out, greeted by his outstretched umbrella.
"Sit in the passenger seat. I'll try to start it," he added, prompting me to take the umbrella from him. Damar immediately got into my car while I moved to the passenger seat. He looked serious as he attempted to start my car. I was sure that deep down, he must have regretted approaching my car, only to end up burdening himself.
I could only watch as Damar kept trying, but it seemed his efforts were in vain. He then opened the door, looking like he was about to step out. I panicked—outside, the rain was still pouring heavily, yet Damar didn't seem to care and just stepped out of the car.
I quickly got out, bringing the umbrella with me, and found Damar about to open the hood of my car. Like his assistant, I moved closer and held the umbrella over him to keep him from getting drenched. Seriously, this guy was so weird—he knew it was raining, yet he insisted on doing this?
"It's no use. We have to wait until the rain stops," Damar said, aborting his plan. His face and clothes were already half-soaked from stepping out without an umbrella. I wanted to tell him he was being foolish.
"So what do we do now?" I asked, confused as Damar simply stood there in the downpour, while this small umbrella wasn't nearly enough to shield us from the heavy rain.
"Let's go back to the house," he replied. Wait… did he mean I had to go back to his house too?
"The rain is too heavy. You can't fix your car right now," he added, leaving me with no choice but to follow him.
A strong gust of wind and the small umbrella meant that raindrops still hit my face and clothes. I nearly cursed out loud, but I remembered Damar was right next to me. But… why was I the one holding the umbrella for him now? With his much taller frame, I had to raise my arm higher to keep his head covered, which was quite a struggle for me. Annoyingly, he seemed oblivious to my struggle, walking leisurely toward his house while I stumbled along, shivering from the cold wind.
"I'll just call a taxi. Let the repair shop pick up my car tomorrow," I said, wondering why this idea hadn't come to me earlier—before Damar got involved. I was annoyed that I had to go back to his house, the very thing I had been trying to avoid.
"A taxi? This late at night?" he asked, frowning.
"Of course. It's not like I can take the busway, right?" I countered, shaking off the water from my hair and hands.
"It's not safe," he said.
"But I still have to go home," I insisted. What, just because he said it wasn't safe, I wasn't allowed to leave?
"Yes, you're going home. But not by taxi. That's not the best option in this heavy rain, especially this late at night," he stated. Great, now this bossy guy was trying to control me.
"What, am I supposed to walk home?" I retorted sarcastically.
"I'll drive you," he offered.
"No way. I'll go home by myself. You just recovered, don't go wandering around in the rain like this," I refused. Damar chuckled, looking at me as if he thought I was joking.
"I'm serious. You'd just be giving me extra work if you don't come in tomorrow," I added. If he skipped work tomorrow, I was not going to deliver any more documents to his house.
"That won't happen," he replied, walking away, probably to change his wet clothes.
Honestly, I'd rather he did get sick and skip work—just as long as he didn't add to my workload. It would be better if he stayed home and didn't bother me at all.
"Dry yourself off," Damar suddenly said, appearing with a small towel. I blinked at the towel he was handing me.
"Do you want to change? You can wear my clothes if you'd like," he continued, making me shake my head vigorously. What nightmare would I have to be wearing his clothes?
I wasn't going to argue anymore about whether I was leaving with him or not. What mattered was that he drove me home as soon as possible, without any more unnecessary chit-chat.
"Let's go," he finally said, making me sigh in relief.
Just as I was feeling happy about finally leaving his house, a series of sneezes made me stop in my tracks. I turned back and saw Damar's face turning red from sneezing so much. His expression showed clear signs of unwellness.
He sneezed again, his face growing redder. As a friend… I mean, as a good employee, I quickly pulled out some tissues from my bag and handed them to him.
Suddenly, I felt guilty—he wouldn't be like this if he hadn't come to help me with my car. But… that was his fault, not mine. I never asked for his help.
"I'll just go home by myself. You're catching a cold. You should rest so you can come to work tomorrow," I said.
"No, it's just a cold allergy," he replied. I thought I was stubborn, but this guy was even worse. He didn't seem to care about his red nose and watery eyes.
"No way. I don't want you missing work because you drove me home. The rain is letting up now—I'll just call a taxi," I insisted. It wasn't like I liked him, but I couldn't just ignore him when he looked like he was in pain.
"It's not as bad as you think," he countered. I didn't believe him and shook my head. As my boss, he probably felt responsible for me, which was why he was forcing himself to take me home—especially since I had brought him documents to sign.
"Come on, let's go," he said, grabbing the umbrella I had placed carelessly on his porch. Fine, if that's what he wanted. I wouldn't care if he complained about being sick tomorrow.
I was more worried that I might catch something since he kept sneezing the entire drive. It wasn't like I cared about him, but my ears were getting annoyed by his constant sneezing.
"You should take some medicine when you get home," I said.
"Yeah, don't worry," he replied. Ugh, so full of himself. Who even said I was worried? I was just making small talk so I wouldn't seem completely indifferent.
I glanced at Damar, thinking that if he got sick again, he'd have a hard time since he lived alone. I often felt the same way when I was sick.
Why was I even thinking about him? So pointless.
Damar stopped the car right in front of my apartment without saying a word. I turned to him, frowning at how odd his face looked.
"Are you okay?" I asked, though I shouldn't have been this concerned.
"I'm fine," he answered, rubbing his nose while his eyes squinted as if he had trouble keeping them open. I didn't believe him. He was obviously struggling to breathe.
"Get out," he then said. If he was telling me to leave, I should have just left. But instead, I kept watching him carefully.
"I'll come to work tomorrow, so don't worry about the documents—I'll bring them in," he reassured me. I nodded, trying not to care about his condition. After all, he said he was fine.
"One more thing… from now on, don't call me sir anymore. It makes me uncomfortable because, in reality, you're older than me, aren't you?"
Damn it! Why did that annoy me so much?(*)