A Heart Shattered by Love

"Evan, water..."

I woke up from anesthesia with a throat so dry it felt like it was splitting apart.

However, Evan Whitmore didn't even glance up. He was glued to his phone. His fingers were flitting quickly across the screen.

It wasn't until the nurse walked in and noticed my parched lips that someone finally responded. She hurried toward me. "Mrs. Whitmore, do you need something? Let me get it for you."

Only then did Evan raise his head, apparently realizing I was awake. "Cecilia said she'll be here soon," he said flatly.

"I don't want to see her," I whispered.

He sighed impatiently, as if I was exhausting him. "Can you stop making a scene? She didn't do it intentionally. I already told you. She bought those vitamins for me. She wasn't trying to hurt you."

I pushed through the stabbing pain in my chest and forced myself to respond. "How could it have been a mistake? The packaging isn't even close to mine."

"Do you have to be so dramatic? You're fine now, aren't you?"

"Fine? I just had stent surgery! I almost died!"

Just then, there was a soft knock at the door. Cecilia Monroe stood there. Her eyes were red.

Evan gave me a warning glance and lowered his voice. "Don't upset her. She has asthma."

Cecilia stepped inside, looking tearful and frail. "Rebecca, I'm so sorry. It was all my fault. I didn't mean for any of this to happen." Tears rolled gently down her face as if she were devastated.

I turned my head away, unwilling to watch her performance.

Seeing this, Evan's expression darkened, and he snapped at me. "Can't you just be a little forgiving? She came here to apologize. What more do you want?"

Cecilia immediately placed a hand on her chest and started gasping. She bent forward as if she might faint. "I... I shouldn't have come... I'm really sorry..." Her voice faded, and she turned alarmingly pale.

Evan panicked, quickly grabbing her shoulders. "Cecilia, calm down. Let's get you to a doctor!"

He rushed out with her in his arms. He did not even notice that my bandages were soaked through with fresh blood.

Later that evening, Evan sent me a short text.

"Something urgent came up at work. I have to go out of town for a few days. I'll check in when I get back."

That same night, I saw Cecilia's latest social media post. The background was identical to my hospital room. She was lying on the bed with a sweet smile, while Evan sat beside her. He was gently feeding her a spoonful of soup.

Her caption read, "Thank you, Mr. Whitmore, for the paid sick leave and thoughtful meal service."

If it had been before, I would've immediately called Evan and demanded an explanation, even if it turned into another ugly, exhausting fight.