"Your injuries look so serious, and the doctor says you're fine? They have no sense of professional responsibility."
"You're a top-tier researcher. If anything happens to you, I'll make them answer for it."
Georgina and Bryan. They were at the same hospital.
Bryan had only suffered a few scrapes, but Georgina was fussing over him like he was on the verge of death. When someone told "the couple" to calm down, she didn't bother correcting them—just scowled and snapped at whoever was nearby.
Mid-argument, her gaze swept the crowd and landed on me.
Her expression cooled instinctively, but she still walked straight toward me.
"Humphrey, go explain to them—why should other people get treated first? Bryan should be the priority!"
My eyes drifted to the man being carried into a room on a stretcher, drenched in blood, then back to Bryan, who stood there without a scratch worth mentioning. I almost laughed.
Who needed treatment more urgently? It was obvious to anyone with eyes.
But she acted like she couldn't see it.
"Don't get upset. You're going to be a mother soon. There's no need to—"
I meant it as comfort, but Georgina's brow twisted. She snatched the medical report from her hand and hurled it at my face.
"You know the situation and you still won't help me? Whose fault is it that Bryan got hurt?"
"If it weren't for you, he never would've been injured. And you've stressed me out so badly I'm having contractions!"
I watched her redirect all her fury onto me, and the last flicker of love I'd been carrying guttered out.
She wanted Bryan admitted for rest. She herself needed to stay because I'd supposedly triggered her contractions. And naturally, she expected me to take care of her.
The doctor looked at me, hesitating, clearly wanting to say something—but I shook my head before he could.
Even if she hadn't asked, I would have stayed at the hospital.
My surgery was the day after tomorrow.
Georgina demanded the best room available and insisted on being placed right next to Bryan's, so she could "look after" him whenever she pleased.
Day after day, watching this pair of star-crossed lovers play out their little drama, I felt nothing.
I prepared a divorce agreement. After my surgery, I would withdraw from the expedition team and end the marriage.
But before that...
Completely oblivious to the shift in me, Georgina poured every ounce of her attention into Bryan. The only time she spared me a thought was when she noticed the research papers in my room.
She leafed through them, then lowered her head and picked up a pen, scribbling across the pages.
"These research reports—how can you claim all the credit for yourself? Bryan nearly died because of you. You have to add his name!"
With one stroke, she wrote Bryan's name on my paper. The further she read, the deeper her frown cut.
"These coordinate points aren't nearly as dangerous as you're making them out to be. You're just a meteorologist. Bryan is the one who specializes in measuring ice thickness and geological layers. Your conclusions don't hold up at all!"
She threw the paper on the floor and ground it under her heel. Then she lifted her chin, looking at me with open contempt.
"Forget it. This garbage is all you're good for."
"Bryan's heading back to the expedition tomorrow. The first places he's going are exactly the sites you flagged." She smiled thinly. "Just wait."
"He'll dismantle every one of your arguments."
"He'll prove you wrong."
My head snapped up. When I heard where Bryan was planning to go, I tried to stop her—but all it earned me was a round of mocking laughter.
In the end, I could only watch as she sent him off.
Through the window, I saw him holding Georgina, one arm wrapped around her waist. He looked up at me and smiled. A deliberate, taunting smile.
Behind me, a nurse knocked on the door and confirmed my information.
"Mr. Simmons, it's time to prep for surgery."
"Alright."
Before I left, I glanced at the two of them one last time.
From here on out, we had nothing to do with each other.
