Chapter 3

I slumped against the wall, feeling like all my strength had been sucked out of me. I wondered how I was going to make it through the next fourteen days.

Night fell, and the exam room was lit only by a dim, yellow lamp. Dennis and I were like two strangers sharing a room.

I claimed the only bed, while he sat in the office chair. We kept to ourselves, not bothering each other.

The so-called bed was really an exam table with a thin blanket tossed on top. It was so hard it felt like sleeping on rocks.

But at least I got the bed instead of him. I'd fought tooth and nail for it.

"I'm the patient. I deserve the bed!" I said, hands on my hips, acting like a total drama queen.

Dennis gave me a lazy glance, clearly not interested in arguing. "Alright. But there's only one set of sheets.

"If you don't mind me sleeping in them, I don't mind sharing the bed with you tonight."

I clammed up instantly.

Dinner was a boxed meal from the hospital. There were two meat dishes and a veggie side.

The food was slid through a little slot at the bottom of the door by someone in hazmat gear. There was only one box.

I stared at the meal, and my stomach let out a loud, embarrassing growl.

Dennis grabbed the box. Without a hint of emotion, he used the disposable fork to pile half the rice and most of the veggies onto the lid.

Then he pushed the rest, along with the two big pieces of ribs, right in front of me.

"You..." I froze, caught off guard.

"Patients should stick to light food and avoid anything greasy," Dennis said matter-of-factly, then lowered his head and started eating his bland meal.

The lamp highlighted his side profile. His long lashes cast gentle shadows, making him look unexpectedly soft. My heart skipped a beat.

I felt that maybe he was not as awful as I thought.

But that thought was completely shattered by his next words.

"Don't get any ideas. I'm worried you'll get worse and die here, and that'll ruin my reputation as a doctor," Dennis said without missing a beat.

I stared at him, speechless.

I guessed I was imagining things.

I furiously dug into the food and gnawed on the ribs, crunching loudly. It was as if I was taking out my anger on him.

After dinner, we each went to freshen up. The bathroom was the only spot where we could actually be alone.

When I went in, I double-checked the locks, making sure the door was shut tight.

When I came out, Dennis was already sprawled across two chairs, his tall body curled up awkwardly.

He looked pretty miserable. His eyes were closed. He seemed to be out cold.

I tiptoed over to the bed, lay down, and wrapped myself up in the blanket like a cocoon.

The room was silent, with only the gentle sound of his breathing and the occasional breeze rustling outside the window.

I was wide awake, tossing and turning with my thoughts all over the place. Sometimes, I was recalling today's cringe-worthy disaster.

Sometimes, I was recalling that breakup scene with Dennis five years ago.

It was pouring rain that day. My mom was pressuring me to cut things off with Dennis for good.

She said Marshall Blair, the Blair family heir who drove a Porsche, was the one I should be with.

"Noelle, listen to your mom. A poor guy like Dennis can't grant you happiness. If you stay with him, you'll be stuck living a hard life forever!" my mom pleaded.

"Mom, I love him!" I shot back.

My mom cried, "Love doesn't put food on the table. Look at us. Your dad's company is about to go bankrupt.

"The only way out is for you to marry Marshall. Then the Blair family will bail us out!"

My mom was sobbing and begging, and in the end, I gave in.

I called Dennis out to meet me outside the restaurant where he worked. Marshall was parked nearby in his flashy red sports car.

Dennis came running through the rain, soaked to the bone, clutching a cheap cake in his hands.

"Noelle, happy birthday. Sorry I'm late. My professor kept us after class..." Dennis said.

I cut him off before he could finish. Pointing at the flashy sports car parked nearby, I unleashed my most poisonous words, each one sharper than the last.

I said, "Dennis, we're done.

"See that car? That's the life I want. You can't give me that.

"You can't even afford a proper lipstick for me. How could you ever say you love me?"

I still remember the look in Dennis's eyes. He was first stunned, then shocked, and finally completely crushed.

The cake slipped from his hands and landed on the ground, the cream mixing with the rain, turning into a soggy, ruined mess.

He stood there in the pouring rain, motionless, watching as I climbed into Marshall's car and disappeared without looking back.

I pulled myself out of those memories, my eyes growing moist. Over the years, I kept thinking about that rainy night and the pain in Dennis's eyes.

I believed I was sacrificing love for my family, but whenever I woke up in the dead of night, guilt would flood over me like a tidal wave.

I still owe him an apology.

"Can't sleep?" Dennis's voice suddenly cut through the darkness, making me jump.

"You are not asleep either?" I stammered.

Dennis said, rolling over to face me, "The chair's too hard. It's hurting my back. What are you thinking about? That trust fund boyfriend of yours?"

There was a sharp edge to his voice.

"None of your business," I mumbled, pulling the blanket over my head.