“Astraea Grant, Zaria Quinn is just a harmless, sweet young girl. You hit like on her Instagram Story on purpose. Are you trying to make people talk about her?”
“Because of your foolish and selfish moves, you upset her so much she dropped half a kilo in two weeks.”
“Come back right now and say sorry to Zaria.”
I quietly heard him speak, then opened my phone, found that post, and removed the like.
“Sorry, tell her from me that this kind of slip won’t show up again. If she’s still unhappy, I’ll stop by tomorrow to say sorry face-to-face.”
Chase was left stuck for words by how I spoke.
Only then did he seem to recall that I had been overseas for half a month.
As my fiancé, his very first call wasn’t to ask if anything risky had happened to me, or when I would get home, but to stand up for his soft, harmless little apprentice.
Realizing he had slipped up, his voice dropped a bit.
“I didn’t go with you to the airport that day because Zaria suddenly had her cycle and felt awful. You know I’m a doctor. I can’t abandon a patient.”
A patient… from her period.
Thinking of the bright-cheeked girl in Zaria’s Instagram Story, all of it suddenly felt pointless.
“Hmm, I get it.”