Third Person's POV
"Chelsea, I’ve got acute gastroenteritis, and I don’t have my medication with me."
Aiken’s voice was calm, but the weight of his words hung heavy between them. Chelsea froze, her expression faltering just enough to betray her hesitation. That flicker was all Aiken needed to see.
He’d never resorted to manipulation before and had always prided himself on being above it. But here he was, using the very tactic he despised. And now that he had, he realized it didn’t make a difference. If anything, it only deepened the hollow ache in his chest, leaving him feeling more pathetic than before.
The quiet clinking of cutlery and muted voices from nearby diners filled the space. Gripping the hem of his shirt tightly, Aiken thought, 'It would be enough for me even if she only pitied me.'
But Chelsea’s next words broke through his fragile hope like glass. "Aiken, Hadwin has a fever. I’ll just have someone take you home, okay?"
Unaware of his pain, she crouched to meet his eyes and added, "You know how serious a high fever can be, right?" While you only have to go home, take some medicine, and you’ll feel better."
Aiken looked at Chelsea, who was pleading with him, and forced a faint smile. "Alright. But come back tonight. I’ve got something I need to talk to you about," he said, his tone barely above a whisper.
Chelsea’s face lit up with relief. She stood and kissed his forehead, her joy almost childlike. "I knew you wouldn’t make things difficult for me!"
"Mm," Aiken murmured, though he’d already gone numb. The words felt like they belonged to someone else. "But promise me—come back tonight."
"Of course!" Chelsea replied, confidence ringing in her voice.
She called for the waiter to settle the bill and quickly arranged a car to take Aiken home. As he watched her walk away, his vision blurred, and his head slumped onto the table.
"Sir! Sir!"
When Aiken opened his eyes again, he was in the hospital. The doctor asked for a family member to come sign the paperwork.
"There’s no need. I’ll handle it myself," he said.
It was already past 11 p.m., so Aiken thought Chelsea must be on her way back by now.
Despite his unsteady body, he struggled home, disheveled and weak. But as he approached the front door, he saw Hadwin dropping Chelsea off.
"Why are you only getting back now?" Aiken’s voice was sharp and cold as he stepped closer.
Chelsea rushed to his side, reaching for his hand. But the moment she touched him, she pulled back in shock. "Aiken, your hands are freezing! Go inside and warm up—quick."
"I’ll help him in," Hadwin offered politely.
But Aiken, uncharacteristically harsh, commanded coldly, "Leave. I don’t want to see you right now."
Hadwin froze, the tension hanging thick in the air. Sensing Aiken’s foul mood, Chelsea motioned for Hadwin to go. Once he was gone, she took Aiken by the arm and led him inside.
Before they could even sit, Aiken went to the drawer and pulled out a document. With a loud thud, he placed it on the table in front of Chelsea.
Chelsea’s eyes widened as she read the bold title: [Divorce Agreement.]
