I pulled the thermometer from my mouth and said, "Shawn, I’ve had a high fever for two days. Can you take me to the hospital first?"
Shawn glanced at the thermometer for two seconds. "Alright, I’ll take you—"
But before he could finish his sentence, Clara interrupted him.
"Shawn, it’s already so late—10 PM. I want to go home."
Clara tugged at his sleeve, and I saw the corners of his lips unconsciously lift into a smile.
Then, he shot me a cold glance.
"It’s just a fever. It’s not a big deal. Go to the hospital yourself—I need to take Clara home."
"Shawn—"
I tried to call out to him again, but all I got in response was the sound of the door closing without hesitation.
The table was covered in trash, filled with empty plates.
I had spent three exhausting hours cooking, yet Shawn left with his precious "first love" without so much as a single word of comfort.
Supporting my throbbing head, on the verge of collapsing, I dialed emergency services.
Only when the ambulance arrived did I finally allow myself to lose consciousness.
—
"Miss, do you have a family member we can contact?"
The nurse’s voice woke me up. I stared blankly at my phone’s empty screen—not a single message.
Of course not.