My Top Priority Is Her Last

Justin's POV

By the time Sienna Jepsen and Harvey Gibson came downstairs, I was in so much pain I was barely conscious.

Suddenly, someone opened the passenger-side door.

"Same as always. Harvey gets car sick, so let him sit in the passenger seat," Sienna said.

I bit my lip hard, and my forehead was covered in sweat.

I said, "Sienna, I don't think I can hold on much longer."

But she didn't move an inch.

I had to practically crawl into the back seat.

Harvey's voice was weak and hoarse. He said apologetically, "I'm sorry for taking your seat again. I'll turn on the seat warmer. You'll feel better."

He said that as he adjusted the controls with practiced ease.

Sienna had bought this car with her first big paycheck.

She said I wouldn't have to squeeze onto the subway anymore.

But ever since Harvey mentioned that he got carsick, he was always the one who got the passenger seat whenever she had to choose.

Right now, I lay weakly in the back seat, unable to say a word.

When we arrived at the hospital in the middle of the night, only one doctor was on duty in the emergency room.

"Let's bandage Harvey up first. It won't take long," Sienna said.

When I tried to step forward, Sienna stopped me, and I almost fell.

Seeing that she refused to budge, the doctor shot me a sympathetic look and quickly bandaged Harvey's hand first.

I sat on the cold hospital chair for over half an hour before I finally got an IV.

"Justin, I'm sorry. I was just too scared of blood and held things up," Harvey said.

Sienna walked over carrying two cups of hot milk, and she handed each of us a cup.

I pushed the milk away with a blank expression. "Sienna, I'm lactose intolerant. Did you forget again?"

In her to-do list, there was one item.

It read, "Remember all the things Harvey is allergic to."

Yet I had told her hundreds of times that I was lactose intolerant, and she still hadn't remembered.

Sienna froze for a moment, then a trace of displeasure appeared in her eyes.

"Don't drink it, then. I'm not forcing you to," she said.

Just then, the doctor came out with my test results and suggested removing my appendix to prevent it from happening again.

I was just about to agree when Sienna suddenly interrupted.

"He can't have the surgery now. Harvey's dog is getting vaccinated tomorrow, and I need to be at the pet hospital with him," she said. "Put the surgery on hold for now."

There was a dull ache in my chest, and I felt a deep emptiness inside.

Even my health mattered less than Harvey's pet.

I forced a bitter smile and said, "Doctor, I can take care of myself. Let's have the surgery now."

With Sienna staring at me in shock and displeasure, I was wheeled into the operating room.

The moment anesthesia was injected, I heard laughter and playful chatter outside the door.

Harvey joked, "I bet he'll come out crying. He's always been terrified of surgery."

Sienna's competitive side immediately kicked in. She said, "Yeah, right. I'll bet 500 dollars he'll keep it together. He won't want us laughing at him."

The laughter outside continued, and I swallowed the pain rising inside me.

I was at the bottom of her to-do list, and I was nothing more than a joke she used to make Harvey laugh.

I was never her priority.

In that case, I wouldn't make her my entire world anymore.