I dug my nails into my palm so hard I broke the skin.
The pain snapped me back to reality.
Fighting the nausea in my throat, I backed up all the messages to my computer.
Then I called the hospital to schedule the abortion.
After setting everything in motion, I couldn’t hold it in anymore—
I ran to the bathroom and threw up.
In the gynecology exam room, I stepped down from the operating table, my face pale.
The doctor wrote out a prescription while scolding me right in front of everyone.
“Next time, use protection.”
“Only twenty-one and already getting an abortion—did you think about today when you were enjoying yourself?”
With every word, the people in the room looked me up and down.
My hands tightened at my sides, and I grabbed the medicine before fleeing in embarrassment.
On my way out, I bumped into a male doctor.
He glanced at the scattered report on the floor, then looked me over from head to toe.
I couldn’t take it—I snatched up the report and ran.
The moment I stepped out of the hospital, the first thing I saw was Adrian Scott.
Next to a black sedan, Adrian was opening the door for a woman in a wheelchair.
She tilted her head up and kissed him on the lips.