Then, my phone buzzed again. Another message from Violet. [Doctor Montclair, Evan is really amazing. I wonder if he’s ever slept with you like this.]
[Five hours! My waist almost gave out.]
I could not take it anymore, so I rushed into the bathroom and retched into the toilet.
The sour burn of stomach acid clawed at my throat, but it was nothing compared to the searing ache in my heart.
The sound of my vomiting must have alerted the nurse next door. "Doctor Montclair, are you okay?"
"I’m fine."
I fought against the waves of dizziness and leaned heavily against the wall for support.
I walked toward Evan's ward, my face blank and emotionless.
Pushing open the door, I noticed that Violet was gone, but the lingering trace of their intimacy still hung in the air.
Evan lay on the bed with his cheeks still flushed.
When he saw me, he quickly sat up and adjusted his hospital gown. His eyes lit up with what seemed like genuine joy, as though nothing had happened just moments ago.
"Isla, why are you here?"
His voice was soft and warm, entirely different from how he had sounded with Violet.
"Isla, do you miss me?"
I kept my tone steady. "I came to check on your wound."