The thin hospital blanket offered zero warmth against the aggressive air conditioning.
Anabelle walked in soft hospital slippers down the stone path of the private hospital's indoor glass conservatory. The cool air-conditioning seeped through the thin fabric. The doctor had just finished examining her lungs-mild aspiration pneumonia. She was ordered to stay for observation.
A light, melodic laugh drifted through the manicured hedges.
Anabelle stopped. Through the gap in the rosebushes, she saw the garden pavilion.
Britany was sitting on a wicker chair, wearing a loose, silk hospital gown. Her hair was half-dry, framing her face in soft waves. Antoine sat beside her, pouring tea into a porcelain cup.
"Antoine, you're being too good to me," Britany pouted, leaning closer to him. "Sister is definitely going to misunderstand."
Antoine set the teapot down. He reached out and tucked a stray strand of hair behind Britany's ear. "You went through a shock. You need to be taken care of. Anabelle should understand that."
Anabelle stood frozen behind the bushes. Her stomach violently contracted, pushing bile up her throat.
Britany shifted her gaze. Her eyes locked onto Anabelle through the leaves. The innocent expression vanished from Britany's face, replaced by a predator's gleam.
Britany deliberately rested her head on Antoine's shoulder. "I feel so dizzy, Antoine," she murmured.
Antoine immediately wrapped his arm around her shoulders, pulling her flush against his side. He pressed the back of his hand to her forehead, his touch lingering, intimate.
Anabelle's fingernails bit into her palms. The pain was sharp, grounding.
Britany lifted her head slightly. Looking straight at Anabelle, she exaggerated the movement of her lips, making sure Anabelle could read them perfectly.
He's mine.
The last shred of Anabelle's breaking heart turned to ash. The agonizing grief evaporated, leaving behind a terrifying, crystal-clear coldness.
She didn't turn and run. She stepped out from behind the bushes and walked directly toward the pavilion. Her slippers made no sound on the stones, but her posture was rigid, her chin held high.
Antoine looked up. His brow instantly furrowed. "What are you doing out here? Are you done with your tests?" His tone was clipped, annoyed.
Britany shrank back against Antoine's chest, her eyes widening in mock terror. "Sister, I didn't mean to fall... please don't be mad."
Anabelle stopped two feet away from the table. She didn't look at Antoine. She stared dead into Britany's eyes.
"You don't need to apologize, Britany," Anabelle said. Her voice was completely flat, devoid of any inflection. "Because starting right now, he belongs entirely to you."
Britany's fake tears stopped. Her pupils contracted in shock.
Antoine frowned, standing up halfway. "Anabelle, what kind of nonsense-"
Anabelle didn't wait for him to finish. She turned on her heel and walked away.
"Anabelle! What is wrong with your attitude?" Antoine shouted after her.
She didn't slow down. She let his voice bounce off her back like useless static.
She walked back into the main hospital building. At the end of the long corridor, an elegant elderly woman sat in a wheelchair, looking out the floor-to-ceiling window.
A middle-aged woman stood beside the wheelchair, leaning down to whisper, "That girl is calmer than I expected."
The elderly woman nodded slightly. "To maintain her dignity after being betrayed like that... she has a spine. Look into her background."
Anabelle didn't hear them. She walked back into her private room and sat on the edge of the bed.
Her phone buzzed on the nightstand. A text from Antoine.
Britany is terrified. I'm staying with her tonight. Get some rest.
Anabelle stared at the glowing screen. A harsh, dry laugh scraped its way out of her throat. She pressed her thumb to the screen, swiped left on his name, and hit delete. Eight years of messages, photos, and promises vanished into the digital void.
She tossed the phone aside. The door opened, and a nurse walked in with a small paper cup of pills. Anabelle took them dry, swallowing the bitter taste.
