Chapter 3

Jasmine POV

The next morning, I went to the hospital.

Even though I'd been suspended, I still wanted to visit, if only to smell the disinfectant.

Passing by the neurosurgery clinic, I ran into my attending physician and mentor, Matthew.

He looked at my hand and sighed, handing me the latest electromyography report.

"Jasmine, nerve damage is irreversible. You'll be fine for daily life, but holding a scalpel... that's never going to happen again."

I'd known the outcome for a while, but hearing the verdict pronounced again still hollowed out a part of my chest.

I traced the jagged scar and smiled faintly. "It's okay. I can live without holding a scalpel. I can do pathology research."

Matthew hesitated, then finally just patted my shoulder. "Where's Oliver? Why didn't he come with you?"

"He's busy with a merger at the company."

He really was busy.

On my way downstairs, I saw Oliver carrying Grace toward the ER.

Her face was contorted in pain, hands clutched to her chest. Oliver's forehead gleamed with sweat, his thousand-dollar custom shirt stained dark.

In his rush, he shouldered past me without a glance-his eyes never leaving her.

I stood there, watching their figures disappear around the corner.

Matthew sighed behind me. "He's like this again? Jasmine, why do you put yourself through this?"

"It's not suffering." I tore up the follow-up report and tossed it in the trash. "It'll be over soon."

When I got home from the hospital, the house was empty.

I walked to the balcony, intending to check on the rare black orchid I'd been cultivating.

Buried in that orchid's soil was a targeted medication I'd spent three months extracting.

Oliver suffered from severe migraines-the kind that made him bang his head against the wall.

After my hand was ruined and I could no longer hold a scalpel, I combed through all my old experimental data and painstakingly extracted plant essences with my left hand, refining them into a concentrated paste.

Because I couldn't exert much force, I often injured myself during the grinding process and had to endure the fumes from chemical reagents.

I hadn't had a chance to give him the medicine yet.

I walked onto the balcony and stopped dead in my tracks.

The expensive orchid was lying on the ground, the pot shattered, soil scattered everywhere.

And the dark brown paste I'd been fermenting on the shelf was now being poured over the orchid's remains by Grace.

The brownish liquid pooled on the floor, releasing a rich herbal fragrance.

"Oh, Jasmine's back?"

Grace heard the noise and turned around, still holding the empty bottle. Her face wore a startled expression. "I thought this black stuff in the bottle was spoiled balsamic vinegar, so I was trying to help clean it up."

She'd poured it all out. Not a single drop remained.

Three months of hard work.

The thing I'd covered my hands in wounds to create.

I walked over and took the empty bottle from her hand. I said nothing.

"Jasmine, why are you looking at me like that? I really didn't mean to..." Grace shrank back, tears coming instantly. "The smell was so strong it made me nauseous. I thought it was trash..."

Footsteps sounded at the door. Oliver was back.

Seeing the scene, he strode over and pulled Grace behind him, frowning at me. "What are you doing now? Grace just had her heart checked. The doctor said she can't be upset."

I looked at the empty bottle in my hand and suddenly laughed.

"Oliver, when your head hurts, don't ask me for medicine anymore."

Oliver froze, then glanced at the mess on the floor and scoffed. "This black gunk? What weird experiment are you trying now? I told you before-I don't take uncertified junk like this. It's better that it's gone. Saves space."

Was that uncertified junk?

That was a specialized medication I'd created after reviewing dozens of top medical journals and consulting countless pharmacists, all to ease his pain.

"Yeah. Better that it's gone."

I released my grip. The empty bottle fell to the floor and shattered with a crack.

Grace screamed, covering her ears and burying herself in Oliver's arms. "Oliver, Jasmine's so scary. I'm afraid of her..."

Oliver patted her back, looking at me with disgust. "Jasmine, why have you become so unreasonable? Just because she spilled a bottle of your condiment, you have to throw a tantrum? Apologize to Grace!"

I didn't move.

"Apologize!" He raised his voice, his gaze ice-cold.

In the past, I would've shoved the molecular formula in his face, told him what it really was, and had a screaming match with him.

But now, looking at the black puddle on the floor, it looked like my dead heart.

"I'm sorry."

I spoke, my voice so calm it surprised even me.

Oliver clearly hadn't expected me to comply so quickly. He froze, the reprimand on his lips stuck in his throat.

I didn't look at him. I turned to get the mop.

"I'll clean it up."

I bent down, using my ruined hand to clumsily sweep the shards and soil into the dustpan.

Oliver stood there watching me. For some reason, he didn't leave with Grace like usual. Instead, he stood there, his frown deepening.

"Jasmine, you..."

"The floor's too dirty. You two should leave so you don't get your shoes dirty."

I interrupted him without looking up, kneeling on the floor with a rag, wiping away the medicinal liquid bit by bit.

Some things couldn't be cleaned. Once they seeped in, they'd never come out.