Out With the Old, In With the New

I was taken aback when I saw Morgan Holt. He was accompanying a young woman as she had her blood taken.

That morning, I'd asked him whether he could accompany me to the hospital while holding onto a pregnancy test. He'd looked at me with unconcealed disgust and irritation. "Don't you know I hate hospitals, Willow?"

I knew that, but this was my first time asking him for something like this. Couldn't he go along with me just once? We'd been looking forward to this child for five years.

"I want—" I wanted to tell him it was a surprise, but he glanced at his watch and hurried off. He didn't even take the breakfast I'd prepared for him. Maybe he was in a rush for class…

I'd always been good at making excuses for him. It was like a reflex action. Now, however, seeing him carefully hold a piece of cotton wool to the young woman's arm, I felt like I didn't need to find excuses for him anymore.

I forced a smile and approached them, greeting, "Hi! What a coincidence!"

Nobody responded. The young woman's eyes turned red, and she tugged on Morgan's sleeve fearfully.

I found this funny. I turned to Morgan. He seemed to have forgotten that he didn't like hospitals or couldn't handle the sight of the blood. He merely looked at me indifferently and said, "You should head home if you're done with your checkup."

"Alright."

He was used to giving out orders, and I was used to obeying them.

It was my turn to collect my medication at the dispensary. I was about to pay when he ran over to me and asked, "Are… Are you unwell anywhere? What do the results say?"

His voice was still cold and distant, but there was the slightest hint of anxiety in it. It was a far cry from how gentle he'd been with the young woman, though.

I folded my receipt and results in half before stuffing them into my bag. My tone was equally cold and distant as I said, "I'm fine."

It wasn't any of his business anymore.

…

I headed home. Morgan texted me as soon as I entered the house. This was his first time taking the initiative to ask whether I'd gotten home safely.

I remembered how he would never have chosen to send me home whenever we had gatherings with our friends. He would say, "This isn't too far from your place, Willow. You can just walk home."

When I chose places further away, he would say, "I'll call you an Uber."

Long story short, Isabel Lane was the only one he wanted to send home. But… she'd already died eight years ago.

Suddenly, something possessed me and made me scour my social media like a madwoman. Then, the realization dawned on me.

…

I packed my things after deciding to leave. Halfway through, Morgan returned.

He placed a gift bag before me, looking a little upset. "Why didn't you reply to me, Willow?"

Yeah. Why hadn't I replied?

I'd always loved texting him. I'd wanted to share everything with him, whether they were just pretty things, yummy food, or fun events. He'd never replied.

Later, I'd switched tactics. Instead of sharing, I'd switched to making requests.

"When you pass by Sense on your way home, can you get me a cup of bubble tea?

"I'm grocery shopping. What do you want for dinner?

"I forgot to get groceries. Should we eat out?"

These messages went unanswered, too.