Chapter 5

That night, I was suddenly jolted awake by severe cramping pain.

The pain was so intense I was drenched in cold sweat, crawling and tumbling my way to the toilet where I vomited until I felt like I was dying.

Acute gastroenteritis had flared up.

Leaning against the cold bathroom tiles, completely drained, I fumbled for my phone wanting to call 911.

But my hand slipped and I accidentally pressed a number in my recent calls.

The phone was answered almost immediately.

"Hello?"

A deep, slightly nasal male voice came through. It was Adrian Knight.

I froze, only then realizing I'd accidentally called him.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Knight, I... I dialed the wrong number..." My voice was trembling from the pain, even my breathing was uneven.

The other end went silent for a second, then Adrian's voice turned extremely serious. "What's wrong? Your voice sounds off."

"It's nothing... just a bit of stomach pain. I called the wrong number..." I tried to hang up.

"Send me your address." Adrian didn't listen to my excuses, his tone brooking no argument. "Right now!"

"Really, it's not necessary..."

"Send your address, or I'll look it up in your employee file directly."

I was in too much pain to argue with him, and that near-death feeling was too strong, so I could only weakly give him my apartment complex name and unit number.

Less than twenty minutes later, the doorbell rang.

I forced myself through the pain to crawl to the door.

The moment I cracked the door open, Adrian strode in.

He was wearing only a slightly disheveled shirt, his hair not as meticulously styled as usual.

Seeing me curled up on the floor, he frowned and without a word, scooped me up horizontally.

"We're going to the hospital."

He carried me out, his steps quick but steady.

In that moment, leaning against his broad, warm chest, I actually felt like crying.

Back when I was with Ethan, I'd had gastroenteritis once too.

It was two in the morning. I was rolling around in bed from the pain, pushing Ethan who was sleeping like a log beside me, begging him to take me to the hospital.

But he groggily turned over, shaking off my hand and yelling at me impatiently. "What are you freaking out about in the middle of the night? You're so high-maintenance! Just take some stomach medicine. Stop making a fuss. I have an early basketball game tomorrow!"

That night, I forced myself to endure until dawn, then went to the hospital alone for an IV.

And now, Adrian Knight, a boss who had no relation to me whatsoever, was speeding through the night to take me to the emergency room.

At the hospital, he handled registration, payment, and getting medication, running around without letting me take a single extra step.

By the time I was hooked up to an IV and lying on a bed in the emergency observation room, the sky was already beginning to lighten.

Adrian sat by the hospital bed. Seeing my complexion improve slightly, he finally relaxed.

"What did you eat last night?" he asked.

"Well... I worked late and skipped dinner. I got hungry at night, so I ordered some super spicy chicken wings..." I said guiltily in a small voice.

Adrian looked at me and sighed, pulling out a thermos from nearby.

"The doctor said you can only eat liquid foods for the next few days. This is oatmeal porridge. Eat some to fill your stomach."

As he spoke, he opened the lid, and a light, pleasant rice fragrance wafted out.

He blew on a spoonful to cool it, then brought it to my lips.

I was so surprised I tried to take it from him. "Mr. Knight, I can do it myself!"

He moved his hand away, his tone gentle but firm. "You still have an IV in your hand. Don't move around."

I mechanically opened my mouth and swallowed that spoonful of porridge.

My stomach felt warm, and my heart felt sour and full at the same time.

This feeling of being carefully cared for and cherished. It had been so, so long.

It turned out being truly cared about felt this good.