Chapter 2

At six-thirty the next morning, Chloe's call came in right on time.

"Ethan, I can't do the rehearsal. I seriously can't even lift my back."

Ethan's voice carried a hint of helpless indulgence. "Chloe, you've been dancing ballet for over a decade. You're not a rookie."

Chloe whimpered over the line. "Would it kill you to comfort me a little?"

He was silent for two seconds, his tone softening. "Fine. I'll head over after my morning rounds. I'll put a pain patch on you first."

Chloe immediately pushed further. "After that, you have to buy me breakfast and help me stretch my legs."

Ethan let out a low chuckle. "Maybe I should just apply to be your dance company's full-time doctor."

"Oh, I wish! Do you dare? Will your wife mind, though?"

The bathroom door was ajar, and I heard every single word.

He hung up, turned around, and froze when he saw me standing there.

"She's just really stressed before the show."

My face was expressionless. "You really take great care of her."

"Maybe you should apply for that full-time gig."

He frowned. "Avery."

Another wave of sharp pain shot up from deep inside my abdomen.

I grabbed the doorframe, my voice hoarse. "Move."

I rushed into the bathroom, kneeling by the toilet and dry-heaving. Nothing came up, but cold sweat kept pouring down my face.

Ethan stood at the door. He didn't come closer, only frowning.

"Did you skip dinner again last night?"

I gasped for air. "My stomach... it hurts."

He took one look at my pale face and spoke in a cold, detached tone.

"Lower back strain can compress the sciatic nerve, causing referred pain in the abdomen. It's normal."

"You've been staying up late editing videos lately. Your posture is terrible. That's why you're hurting."

I froze, my fingers gripping the edge of the sink tightly.

"It's not my back."

He acted like he didn't hear me. He grabbed a tissue and wiped the doorknob.

"You never say anything when you're uncomfortable. You only play the victim when the pain becomes unbearable. It's exhausting, Avery."

He glanced down at his watch.

"I have to do Chloe's physical therapy this morning, and I have a consultation this afternoon. I can't stay."

"There are painkillers in the medicine cabinet. Take two."

He paused before adding,

"Make sure to turn on the exhaust fan when you're done. Don't leave a smell for others."

The moment the door slammed shut, another wave of intense pain hit me. I couldn't even stand straight.

A metallic taste rose in my throat.

I leaned against the wall for a long time, suddenly feeling a deep sense of irony.

He had all the patience in the world to find the perfect angle for every inch of Chloe's spine, but he found my pain "exhausting" and unseemly.

So, his medical ethics were reserved only for certain people.

He grabbed his bag and left without looking back.

I wiped my face, ordered an Uber by myself, and went to the hospital.