Chapter 5

Evelyn Reed POV

My body was severely weakened after the miscarriage. After performing two surgeries back-to-back at the hospital, I almost fainted at the washbasin.

The head nurse lovingly held me: "Dr. Reed, you've looked so pale lately. Mr. Thorne cares about you so much, why doesn't he get you some tonics to help you recover?"

I forced a smile, saying nothing.

Nate had been "very busy" lately. Busy finding a kidney donor for Sophia, busy accompanying her to dialysis, busy holding and comforting her when she cried in pain.

He hadn't been home for three consecutive days. Each time I called, his assistant answered, always with the same excuse: "Mr. Thorne is in a transnational video conference."

I changed out of my white coat and walked out of the hospital entrance.

A black Maybach was parked by the roadside. Nate leaned against the car door, a cigarette between his fingers, looking somewhat fatigued. Seeing me, he immediately stubbed out the cigarette and quickly walked over, pulling me into his embrace.

"Evelyn, you're off work. Things have been too hectic at the company these past few days; I've neglected you." He pressed a kiss to my forehead, the gesture as practiced as a ritual.

I caught the strong scent of disinfectant on him. It wasn't the smell of our hospital; it was the scent of Sophia's private hospital.

"It's fine," I said flatly, pushing him away. "Let's go home."

The atmosphere in the car was heavy. Nate tried to strike up a conversation several times, but I deflected him each time.

As we passed a newly opened restaurant, Nate suddenly slammed on the brakes.

"This restaurant's desserts are famous; I remember you used to love them. Shall we go down for a bite?" Nate looked at me, a hint of pleading in his eyes.

I looked at the restaurant, feeling a wave of nausea. Sophia had posted its location on Ins.

"I'm not hungry."

"Just a little bit. You've lost too much weight lately." Nate unbuckled my seatbelt directly, half-forcing me out of the car.

The restaurant's lighting was dim, and the atmosphere intimate.

Nate ordered a table full of dishes, all light and bland. He solicitously pushed the food towards me, as if returning to his role as the perfect husband.

Just then, a waiter approached, carrying a fresh pot of hot soup.

Perhaps the floor was slippery; the waiter tripped, and the entire pot of scalding soup splashed directly towards Nate and me.

"Watch out!"

In a split second, Nate sprang to his feet.

I thought he would protect himself as he always had. But Nate's body instinctively lunged to the left—where Sophia, who had just returned from the restroom, was standing.

Nate shielded Sophia tightly in his arms, his back to me.

"Splash!"

Most of the scalding soup landed on my lower leg.

"Ah!" I gasped in pain, collapsing back into my chair. Through the thin fabric of my pants, my skin instantly turned bright red, blistering in large patches. The piercing pain made me break out in a cold sweat.

Meanwhile, Nate was anxiously cradling Sophia's face, examining her up and down: "Sophia, did you get burned? Are you uncomfortable anywhere?"

Sophia had only a few drops of soup on her skirt, but she was visibly shaken, her face pale, clinging to Nate's sleeve, trembling: "Nate, I'm scared..."

"Don't be scared, I'm here." Nate cooed softly, his eyes filled with urgency.

The waiter repeatedly apologized, bringing ice and towels.

I gritted my teeth, rolling up my pant leg myself. The shocking redness and blisters alarmed the people around us.

Only then did Nate suddenly snap back to reality. He turned, saw my lower leg, and his pupils constricted.

"Evelyn!" He released Sophia, intending to check my injuries.

"Don't touch me!" I violently swatted his hand away, my eyes as cold as ice.

Nate's hand froze in mid-air, his face grim. He looked at the trembling Sophia, then at me, drenched in cold sweat, and gritted his teeth: "Evelyn, just put some ice on it for now. I need to take Sophia to the hospital first; she's not well and can't handle shocks. I'll be right back to pick you up!"

With that, he unhesitatingly scooped Sophia into his arms and strode out of the restaurant.

I sat there, watching their retreating backs, and suddenly let out a low laugh.

I laughed until tears streamed down my face.

The pain in my leg was nothing compared to the agony in my heart.

I was a doctor; I knew perfectly well that Sophia hadn't been hurt at all. I had suffered second-degree burns.

But in Nate's eyes, a single strand of Sophia's hair was more important than my life.

I didn't wait for Nate to return. I took a cab to the hospital myself, saw to my own treatment, cleaned the wound myself, and endured the excruciating pain of having the blisters clipped.

I didn't take any anesthetic. I wanted to remember this pain.

Remember the pain Nate had given me.