Marrying Lucas had never been a choice. It had been a consequence of circumstances beyond her control. Evelyn had no response to Sebastian’s words.

Sebastian stood up. “I’ll get you some water. Just wait here.”

Evelyn absentmindedly glanced at the nearly empty TV. She thought about calling a nurse to remove the needle, but the emergency room was extremely busy at the moment. She got out of bed and walked a few steps, but seeing no available nurse, she leaned against the wall.

Nearby, she overheard people chatting. “Guess who I just saw? Mr. Grant of Grant Group! He was rushing into the hospital just now!”

Lucas came to the hospital? Could he be here to see her? Evelyn found that possibility highly unlikely. After all, he had never cared about her.

Soon enough, the two women continued gossiping. “Mr. Grant came with an incredibly beautiful woman! He looked so concerned about her.”

It was just an idle thought, Evelyn mused. Evelyn had long learned not to expect anything, so there was no room for disappointment. After all, she and Lucas were already on their way to becoming strangers.

One of the women lowered her voice and added, “Don’t tell anyone this, but it looked like they were heading for a prenatal checkup.”

Even though Evelyn knew that Lucas was there for Tiffany, hearing the words “prenatal checkup” was enough to make her subconsciously place her hand on her abdomen. She couldn’t help but think that she would soon lose the ability to conceive.

A dull ache settled in her chest—a reminder that some wounds didn’t heal just because she wanted them to.

“Why are you wandering around when you’re already sick?” A familiar voice snapped her out of her daze. Evelyn turned around and was surprised to see Blake. He stood there with one hand in his pocket, looking at her. She wasn’t sure how much of the women’s conversation he had overheard.

Evelyn swallowed, trying to moisten her dry throat. “What are you doing here?”

Blake shrugged. “Got a call saying you fainted. They needed your ID and insurance card.”

Only then did Evelyn remember that she had been using the same phone number for years. A long time ago, Blake had taken her phone and set himself as her emergency contact. He had once said that no matter when or where, if she needed him, he would be there in a heartbeat.

However, things were different now. “Sorry,” Evelyn said softly. “My friend didn’t know.”

She glanced at the TV, and pressed on the injection site. “A cold and fever made you faint?” She could use any excuse—headache, fever, injury—just to make him rush to her side.

Blake paused for a while before stepping forward. He grabbed her wrist with practiced ease. “Eve, you’re still the same as when we were kids. Always pulling these tricks just to get me to come to you.”

Back then, he had many admirers, and she would always get jealous and upset. Every time, she’d come up…

Evelyn lowered her gaze to where he was holding her wrist. She quietly pulled away, deliberately creating some distance between them. “You don’t have to come anymore,” she whispered.

Blake looked at her, thinking she was just throwing a little tantrum. “First time, text me on WurSapp first instead of calling,” he said, leaning against the wall. “Otherwise, Joqdea might get jealous.”

“Okay, it won’t happen again.” Evelyn did not bother arguing with him. Meaningless explanations were better replaced with meaningful actions.

If this had been in the past, she would never have tolerated him skiing with another woman. He couldn’t tell for sure. Was Evelyn strategizing, or did she have other plans?

After a brief moment of thought, he figured that when women were upset, they always needed a…

Taking a step forward, Blake reached out and ruffled Evelyn’s hair, bending slightly to look at her. “Feeling better now?”

Evelyn instinctively tried to brush his hand away. But just as she lifted her gaze, she saw no anger in his eyes; his gaze lingered on her with quiet detachment. It was as though he was merely a stranger observing from the side.

Lucas: the pair was fundamentally different. He could clearly see the exhaustion and sickness on Evelyn’s face, yet there wasn’t a hint of concern in his eyes. They had been married for three years and had spent every day together. Even a dog or a cat would develop attachment over time.

Evelyn subconsciously glanced at Tiffany’s abdomen before subtly pulling her hand away as Blake reached out to ruffle her hair.

Blake presented her with a polite nod. “Ms. Grant, are you feeling unwell? News? I heard it’s a prenatal checkup?”

Lucas, responding with a slight nod, said, “But bringing Tiffany here for a checkup…”

Mr. Hamisen recalled the gossip he had just heard in the hospital and smiled coyly. “Good news? I…” He looked quizzically, exchanged a look with Lucas, and continued, “Mr. Hamisen, be careful with your words. Rumors like that wouldn’t be good for Tiffany.”

Then quietly, she observed the back of her hand, which was swollen from the IV drip. Lares had received an elite education since childhood. He was always poised, always composed. Even if he was cold by nature, he maintained a polished front, regardless of his true feelings. He was meticulous and allowed no room for mistakes.

“So it was a misunderstanding,” Blake said.

“Yeah,” Lucas said evenly. “Tiffany’s hand got scalded, so I brought her to the doctor to get it treated.”

Only then did Evelyn notice the back of Tiffany’s hand; it was fair and slender, barely showing any injury. It wasn’t even a teal injury, yet Lucas took it so seriously and brought her to the hospital with such fanfare. Meanwhile, Evelyn had collapsed right in front of him, and he didn’t even bat an eyelid.