Chapter 2
The ambulance finally arrived.
The paramedics lifted me onto a stretcher.
The doctor cut through my sleeve, revealing a wound so deep the bone was exposed.
"We're out of anesthetic, and it'll take time to prepare more. We need to stitch you up immediately," the doctor said, holding the needle and thread.
"Go ahead," I replied, nodding.
Fifteen stitches.
Without any anesthesia, I kept my eyes open, watching as the doctor stitched my skin together, layer by layer.
I didn't cry, and I didn't scream.
Half a year ago, during that fire, when Lucas peeled my fingers off his hand one by one and abandoned me in the thick smoke, I had already run out of tears to cry.
With my leg in a cast, I hobbled in on crutches and pushed open the door.
It was already two in the morning.
Lucas was sitting alone in the living room armchair, reading a journal in a foreign language.
He looked up when he heard me come in.
His eyes landed on my cast and the coat I wore, stained with dried blood and dust.
Lucas immediately frowned, stood up, and took two full steps back. "What did you do to get so dirty? You know I can't stand the smell of blood. Do you want me to throw up?"
He didn't ask why my leg was broken.
He didn't ask how badly I was hurt.
He was just disgusted that I messed up his place and ruined his precious clean space.
I stood in the entryway, looking at the man I had known for ten years.
"I went to an interview and got caught up in a riot," I said calmly.
Lucas grabbed a disinfectant wipe from the table and wiped his fingers until his knuckles were red. "I've told you a million times to quit that degrading job. But you never listen."
"Is it that you don't want me working, or are you worried I'll make you look bad?" I asked.
He stopped wiping his hands, his expression growing cold. "Are you acting crazy again today?"
I took a step forward on my crutches. "I saw it in your office this afternoon."
Lucas's face froze for a moment.
"You drank Nina's coffee. And you touched her face," I added.
A few seconds later, Lucas tossed the used wipe into the trash. "Her experiment failed, and she broke down. I was trying to comfort her."
"And you had to drink from the same cup to comfort her?" I shot back.
Lucas looked at me, his voice dripping with reproach and disgust. "Julia, don't assume everyone is as twisted as you are. I wasn't paying attention. I'm a total neat freak; you know that, right?"
The way he looked at me was so sure of himself.
I was exhausted.
This had nothing to do with his so-called obsession with cleanliness.
Back in the fire, when Lucas wouldn't take my hand and acted disgusted by the smoke on me, it wasn't because he was a germaphobe.
The way he insisted on showering three times a day and making me keep at least three feet away from him wasn't about being clean, either.
He simply thought I was disgusting.
"Fine, I get it," I said, turning to head for the guest room.
Lucas called out from behind me. "Tomorrow's the centennial gala for Westbridge University. Get ready. Don't wear anything flashy. Put on that white gown. I don't want anything too flashy."
I didn't turn around. "Yeah, I know."
That white gown was identical in style to the one Nina wore today.
The next day.
I arrived at the dinner on time.
I didn't wear the white dress.
I chose a deep red gown and bold lipstick.
This was the opposite of what Lucas had asked for.
When Lucas saw me, his face turned thunderous. "Didn't I tell you to wear white?"
"I threw it away," I replied.
He grabbed my wrist hard, then let go as if he had been burned, and wiped his hands with a handkerchief. "Julia, do you have to make trouble for me today?"
I didn't bother to respond and went right to my seat.
As a well-known professor at Westbridge University, Lucas was seated at the main table.
Nina, the student representative, was at the main table as well.
As the waiter brought out the dishes, Nina suddenly jumped to her feet.
She wobbled, and her wine glass slipped from her hand.
Red wine splashed all over her white dress and onto Lucas's sleeve.
Nina burst into tears, completely panicked. "I'm sorry, Mr. Grant. I didn't do it on purpose."
Lucas didn't grab a tissue or frown.
He reached out and cupped Nina's face in his hands.
He wiped away her tears with his fingertips, once again. "It's okay, don't cry. I'll change into another one."
His voice was remarkably gentle.
Everyone's attention shifted our way.
People started giving me weird looks.
Lucas acted like I didn't exist.
He didn't even bother wiping the wine off his sleeve; he was totally focused on soothing Nina.
Using my crutches for support, I slowly pushed myself to my feet.
I made my way to the microphone at the front of the ballroom.
The whole room went quiet.