Chapter 2

The nurse scanned my ID, and her brows gradually furrowed.

"Mr. Dillon, Ms. Kirby canceled the family medical account you had registered under her name a month ago."

I froze.

The nurse turned the screen toward me, her voice softening. "The VIP card allows only one emergency contact. Last month, Ms. Kirby replaced you with a Mr. Jeremiah Cochran."

When the nurse asked if I wanted to fill out a new emergency contact form, I ultimately left the field blank.

On the way back, Marianne called.

"Where are you? Dad's hosting a family dinner tonight. Everyone's already here."

I glanced at the puncture mark left by my IV on the back of my hand and declined without much interest.

Half an hour later, Marianne pulled up outside the hospital.

"Why didn't you tell me you were at the hospital?"

She reached toward my forehead. For a moment, I actually didn't pull away.

Once, when I was doubled over with stomach pain in the middle of the night, she braced most of my weight against her slender shoulder and somehow managed to get me to the ER.

The hospital bench was cold and hard. Afraid I'd catch a chill, she had me curl up with my head in her lap and spent the entire night rubbing my stomach with her palm.

But the next second, her phone rang. Jeremiah's name flashed across the screen.

Marianne answered and told him she'd be there soon. She then pulled her hand back and said, "Jerry's already at Dad's. All the elders are there tonight, so it'll look bad if you don't show up. If you're still feeling unwell, we can head home early after dinner."

In the end, I got into her car.

My dog, Ash, was staying in Mr. Kirby's backyard, and I'd planned to bring him home in a few days.

The moment he heard my footsteps, Ash struggled up from his cushion.

He was already ten years old, his hind legs no longer working as well as they used to. But he still wagged his tail and shuffled toward me.

I'd barely crouched down when Jeremiah covered his nose and mouth.

"Marianne, get him away from me! I'm allergic to dog hair. My chest feels tight."

Marianne kicked Ash's cushion right out the front door.

I rushed over to steady Ash.

"It's going to rain. He won't be able to handle it outside."

"It won't rain." Marianne grabbed my wrist and pulled me back inside. "What if Jerry has an allergic reaction?"

Outside, Ash scratched softly at the door over and over again.

Ten years ago, when my depression had been at its worst, I'd spent entire nights sitting on the balcony.

Ash had been just a puppy then. He'd dragged a slipper over and curled up at my feet. No matter how many times I tried to shoo him away, he'd refused to leave.

The first time Marianne met him, she'd crouched down and petted him for a long time. She'd promised me that wherever we went in the future, we'd always take him with us.

Now, the same dog she'd once gathered into her arms could barely muster a sound through the closed door.

Mr. Kirby called everyone to dinner.

I'd spent 12 hours making bone broth and packed it into a thermos to keep it warm. It was meant for Mr. and Mrs. Kirby.

As I brought the bone broth to the table, Jeremiah hurried over to help. But the moment his fingers touched the bowl, he tilted his wrist outward.

Hot broth splashed across the back of my hand, and a searing pain shot through my skin.

Jeremiah stepped back, his face full of remorse.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I saw how heavy the soup was and wanted to help you carry it. I didn't realize we'd get our movements crossed. Mitchell, if you're upset, just take it out on me. I promise I won't say a word in my defense."

Marianne pulled out a napkin and crouched down to wipe Jeremiah's pant leg. His pants were spotless—not a single drop of soup had touched them.

Only after she'd finished checking did she look up and notice the blisters rising on my hand.

"You can't even manage to serve soup without making a mess. Go run your hand under cold water. I'll order takeout."

I held my hand under the running tap for ten minutes.

By the time I came out, the food had already arrived. Six place settings sat on the dining table, but there were only five chairs.

My seat had been removed.

Jeremiah sat to Marianne's right, idly turning over the worry stone Mr. Kirby habitually rolled between his fingers. The Kirbys were listening to him explain what color envelope would go best with the invitations.

No one even paid me any attention.

Marianne glanced up. "Ash keeps barking. It's giving me a headache. Go stay outside with him, and while you're at it, take some time to calm down. You're way too emotional tonight."

I looked at her as water dripped from my hand.

"Is this the place you saved for me?" I asked.

Marianne seemed not to catch the meaning behind my words, for she said, "I'll get you some burn cream later."

When the door opened, Ash pressed himself into my arms.

Inside, I heard the sound of glasses clinking.

I stroked Ash's gray ears.

"We should go."

Suddenly, Mr. Kirby's laughter rang out from inside.

The door hadn't been fully closed. Through the narrow gap, I saw him take out a black watch box.

"This watch was originally meant for Mitchell. But he has a large build, so it looks a little cramped on his wrist. It fits Jeremiah perfectly, though. What do you think, Marianne?"

Marianne turned her head, her gaze passing over me outside the door. It lingered for only a second, and then she smiled and nodded.

"You're right, Dad. It suits Jerry perfectly."

Outside, rain poured down in sheets, soaking Ash and me through and chilling us to the bone as I held him in my arms.

Marianne came out and, with a pained look, wrapped her coat around me.

"Why are you standing out here in the rain like a fool? Jerry's gone to so much trouble helping us arrange the engagement party, so think of the watch as a thank-you gift. I'll take you shopping for something even better later."

Wrapped in her cold coat, I finally swallowed down the last trace of love I had for her.