A few seconds later, murmurs began to circulate.
"Isn't this cheating?"
"The way they just slipped into it is disgusting. If it was that seamless, they must've had something going on before."
"So, they're the douchebag and the mistress?"
"These two seem familiar... are they dancers?"
Realizing what was happening, Arthur quickly stepped in, pulling Clara into his arms, blocking us from prying eyes.
Arthur turned, casting me a complicated and reproachful look.
At that moment, a nurse’s voice echoed down the hallway, urging us to hurry.
I waved my hand toward Arthur. "You two should go now."
Through the glass door, I saw their frustrated and unwilling expressions.
But I had already moved on, flipping open the next patient file.
After that incident, it felt like Arthur had declared war on me.
His and Clara's love story seemed to find a way to reach my ears every day, in some new, ridiculous form.
The surgical lights in the operating room flickered on at dawn.
I gripped the scalpel, listening closely to the rhythmic beeping of the monitors.
When the surgery ended, I took a quick break and checked my phone.
Once again, Arthur and Clara had updated their status.
On stage, they danced a flawless duet together.
Arthur lifted Clara and twirled her.
The camera froze on the moment their gazes met.
The caption read: "The soul of a duet is trust, and love."
The comments were flooded with "Lord Arthur & Lady Clara, forever our icons."
Many even asked when they'd get married.
Clara replied to one, saying, "We’ll wait until we win an international gold medal."
I shut off the page.
But, despite myself, I couldn't shake the words Arthur had once said.
He'd told me, "One day, I want to stand with you on that award stage, and tell the world you're my wife."
But now, everything had changed.
It was at that moment that a nurse burst into the room.
"Dr. Carver, there’s a patient outside, and they’ve insisted you see them personally."
The nurse's voice broke my train of thought.
I opened the door and saw Arthur holding Sophia up, both looking desperately at me.
Sophia’s face was pale, her knee swollen and shiny, barely able to stand.
As soon as she saw me, her eyes welled up with tears.
"I know I shouldn’t bother you, but the massage therapist at home is too rough, and I only trust you..." she began.
I cut her off, avoiding her gaze. "Please, go wait at the payment desk."
Arthur’s gaze never left me.
Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed the lingering affection and frustration in his look.
He stepped closer, reaching out to grab me.
I swiftly sidestepped him.
"Bella..."
"Mr. Harlow." My voice was icy. "Since you're here for treatment, please follow the proper procedures."
Arthur’s pupils constricted.
"Wait, you’re calling me Mr. Harlow? You used to call me honey..."
I stared at him, baffled.
What the hell was he on about now?
We’re divorced—does he seriously think honey is still appropriate?
But before I could respond, he switched gears.
"That’s right, Clara and I are deeply in love."
I stared at him, confused.
Not sure why he was going on about that. Who even asked?
When the test results came in, I saw that Sophia’s condition had worsened due to her reckless decision to stop taking anti-inflammatory medication.
I couldn’t understand why she would do that.
Arthur stood in front of me, staring at my name tag, his throat moving as he spoke.
"You used to personally adjust her medication, you could..."
"Rheumatic bone disease isn’t a major issue. The patient’s details are in the system; any attending doctor can handle this." I interrupted him.
But then, suddenly, Arthur smiled.
"Bella, I really can’t sense any love from you anymore—except for that time when you got jealous and caused a scene because of Clara."
"Other than that, I feel like I’m just another person to you."
