Chapter 3

The private room was eerily quiet. Only the music kept playing.

Tom and his crew sat on the couch, watching the show unfold.

I sat on the couch, my hands resting on my knees.

"I didn't push her. I'm not apologizing," I said.

Andrew's jaw tightened. He strode over, grabbed my wrist, and yanked me up from the couch.

"Luna, my patience has limits," Andrew said. "If Anna's foot is hurt, can you take responsibility? I told you to apologize."

I stumbled as he pulled me, my knee banging against the edge of the coffee table. A dull ache shot through me.

I stayed silent, locking eyes with him.

"Andrew, are you even being fair right now?" I shot back.

"Fair?" Andrew scoffed, letting go of my wrist and jabbing a finger at Anna on the floor. "The evidence is right there. Out of jealousy, you pushed her on purpose. You always pretend to be understanding, but underneath it all, you're just plain cruel."

Anna clung to Andrew's pant leg.

"Andrew, drop it," she said. "Luna didn't mean it, I'm sure. I slipped, and don't blame her. Let's go. I want to get my foot looked at at the hospital."

Andrew took a deep breath, then bent down and scooped Anna up into his arms.

He turned to look at me.

"Luna, you've really disappointed me," he said. "Stay here. Come back when you've finally sorted yourself out."

With Anna in his arms, Andrew strode out of the private room.

Tom and the others stood up as well.

"Luna, Andrew's mad right now. Why not let it go? No need to make things harder for yourself," Tom said.

He brushed off his clothes and led the others out of the room.

The door closed behind them, leaving me all alone.

I sank back onto the couch, my knee aching in waves.

I grabbed my bag, ready to head out.

I unzipped it and reached inside, but my hand stopped mid-motion.

The inner pocket was open, and the small bottle in which I always kept my asthma rescue inhaler was missing.

I dumped everything out onto the coffee table.

There were lipstick, tissues, keys, and a wallet.

But the white inhaler bottle was nowhere to be seen.

I suddenly remembered that when Anna fell, her hand grabbed my bag.

A familiar tightness squeezed my chest.

My breathing got harder, my throat making a harsh, wheezing noise.

I grabbed my phone and called Andrew.

A mechanical voice said, "Sorry, the person you're calling is on another call."

I hung up and called again. It was still busy.

He blocked my number.

I grabbed onto the coffee table for support and stumbled toward the door. I had to get to the hospital.

When I pushed the door open, the hallway was deserted. The air conditioning was cranked up, and the icy blast made me shiver so hard.

Clinging to the wall for support, I took one shaky step after another toward the elevator.

My vision was swimming, and it felt like I couldn't get any air into my lungs.

The elevator doors slid open, and I stumbled inside, pressing the button for the lobby.

The elevator dropped, floor numbers blinking past in a blur.

When the doors opened on the first floor, I staggered out into the lobby, the lights blinding and harsh.

I saw Andrew standing by the big windows in the lobby, tall and straight, talking on his phone.

Anna was sitting on the couch nearby, idly turning a white plastic bottle over in her hands.

That bottle was my asthma medicine.

I opened my mouth, trying to call out to Andrew, but all that came out was a rough, ragged gasp.

I took a shaky step, but my legs buckled, and I collapsed face-first onto the floor.

As I hit the ground, I caught a glimpse of Andrew turning around.

He frowned, shot me a glance, probably thinking I was pulling another pity stunt, and let out a cold laugh, looking right through me.

Without a second thought, he rushed over to Anna, helped her up, and walked straight out the door.

He didn't glance my way.

My face crashed onto the marble floor, the cold seeping into every inch of me.

Right before Anna got in the car, she shot a look back.

She casually chucked my white inhaler into the trash can next to her.