Chapter 4

June Abbott POV

The day Chloe's hearing temporarily regressed, Ethan stayed at the rehab center all night.

I called him a few times, but the phone just rang unanswered. Later, I got the address from the driver, changed my shoes, and rushed over.

The rehab center's corridor was long, with stark white walls and lights, and tightly shut patient room doors. A nurse passed by me and asked, "Are you looking for Mr. Vance? Should I go in and tell him?"

I shook my head.

I thought Ethan would come out soon.

I stood outside the patient room in high heels. The heels were thin, the shoes stiff, and at first, my heels just felt warm. Minutes ticked by, and the nurse asked again. I still said no.

Occasionally, very low voices came from inside.

Ethan's voice was hushed, as if afraid of startling someone.

I moved closer to the wall, shifting my weight to my other foot. The shoe was rubbing against my skin, and the pain grew sharper. After more than an hour, I glanced down. The inside of the shoe was already stained dark red.

A blister had burst.

Blood clung to the leather, and every movement pulled at the wound.

The patient room door finally opened.

Ethan stepped out, his eyes bloodshot, his shirt sleeves rolled up. I instinctively angled my injured foot towards him.

"Ethan."

He saw me standing in the corridor, and his expression darkened a little. "What are you doing here?"

I leaned against the wall, my heel still bleeding. I was about to speak when Chloe let out a muffled groan from inside the room.

It was very faint.

Ethan immediately turned around.

He didn't even look down at my foot.

The door closed in front of me, a gust of air rushing from the gap, then quickly dying out.

I stood there, blood from my heel seeping down the shoe.

A few minutes later, Ethan came out again. He held a pair of slippers, blue plastic soles, with the rehab center's logo on the top.

He bent down and placed the slippers at my feet.

"Put them on."

I looked down at those slippers.

The edges of the soles still had a bit of dirt, and the front was creased from many people stepping on them. The communal items from the rehab center were now placed at my feet.

Ethan had already pulled out his phone. The screen was lit, Chloe's profile picture displayed.

"She wants an energy drink, a specific brand. The convenience store downstairs is about to close. I'll go buy it."

I looked up.

He remembered Chloe's needs so clearly. The brand, the time, when the convenience store closed. For the blood on my heel, he only left a pair of communal slippers.

"Ethan," I called him.

Ethan paused.

I asked, "Did you see my foot?"

He glanced back, his brow furrowed. "Just put on the shoes. Don't make a scene."

Another sound came from the patient room.

Ethan's patience snapped. He turned and walked towards the elevator, his steps quick. The corridor lights shone on his shoulder, and he didn't even put down his phone.

I stood there, watching the elevator doors open and close.

Those communal slippers remained in place at my feet.

I didn't put them on.

I bent down and took off my high heels, placing them against the wall. When my feet touched the ground, the cold tiles pressed against my skin. The wound tore open, and blood dotted the floor.

A nurse looked up at me from the station, startled. "Ma'am, your foot..."

I picked up my bag and walked out barefoot.

Every step hurt. The blood from my heel left faint marks on the corridor floor, trailing from the patient room door all the way to the elevator.

The communal slippers remained in their spot, their toes pointed in the direction I had left.