Chapter 6
“I’m really sorry, Claire. I was starving and couldn’t wait for you,” Evelyn apologized, tugging Claire toward the dining table.
But when Claire looked at the table, her heart sank. It was covered with only scraps of leftover food.
She stood there, frozen, as a mix of emotions flooded her–sorrow, frustration, and
something deeper she couldn’t name.
“Forget it. I’m not hungry, Claire said softly, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’m not feeling well today. You two enjoy.” With that, she turned and limped toward the stairs.
Behind her, Evelyn’s voice was tinged with surprise. “Claire, what’s wrong? Are you
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upset because I didn’t wait for you?”
Allen’s hand landed on Evelyn’s head in a casual, affectionate gesture. “Don’t overthink it. She sprained her ankle today and isn’t feeling well.”
The sight of them, so effortlessly connected, caught Claire’s eye as she glanced back. Her mouth parted, as though she wanted to speak, but all that came out was a quiet sigh. Her heart ached as she turned away and made her way to the master bedroom.
The contrast of the day played in her mind like a painful echo. Evelyn’s single phone call had been enough to make Allen drop everything and rush to her side. Meanwhile, Claire–barely able to walk–had received no such attention. The disparity felt like a wound in her chest.
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Once in the bedroom, she tried to focus, pushing aside the throb in her ankle as she searched the drawers for a first aid kit. It took far too long, but eventually, she found an old, battered medicine box tucked away in the guest room closet. Inside was a single bottle of expired iodine.
With no other choice. Claire carried the bottle back to her bedroom. As she passed the guest room, she noticed that it had been tidied up–neat, orderly, and strangely untouched. She didn’t pause to think about
- it.
Sitting on the edge of the bed, she dabbed the iodine on her swollen ankle. The moment the cotton touched her skin, a sharp, searing pain made her gasp.
In just one day without proper care and the strain of walking on it, her injury had gotten
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far worse.
“You shouldn’t use that.”
Claire froze at the unexpected voice. She looked up to find Allen standing in the doorway, a fresh bottle of herbal liniment in hand.
“That iodine’s expired. Didn’t you notice? You’re still so careless.” He sighed, walking toward her. Kneeling in front of her, he gently reached for her swollen ankle to inspect the damage.
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But Claire flinched, pulling her foot away instinctively. “Are you disgusted by me?”
In the soft light of the bedroom, Allen’s expression was unreadable, his eyes betraying no emotion as they met hers.
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Claire tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, her fingers lingering at her temple as the awkward silence stretched between them. “No… it’s just that Evelyn’s still waiting for you outside. You should go keep her company. Leave the liniment here–I’ll be fine on my own.”
Alien studied her for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Without a word, he grabbed her ankle, lifting it into his lap, ignoring her protest.
The sudden movement made Claire wince, a soft gasp slipping from her lips.
When he saw the extent of the swelling and bruising, his irritation softened, replaced by an almost imperceptible flicker of guilt.
“I’m sorry,‘ he murmured, his voice low.
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Claire froze. The apology caught her off guard.
Allen wasn’t the type to offer apologies, especially not to her. In the three years they’d been together, this was the first time she’d heard him say it.
Even when he’d left her alone on the side of the road with a ruptured appendix, there had been no apology. Later, she’d learned he was rushing to a medical seminar where Evelyn was being introduced as his mentee. Claire, writhing in pain, had been left to suffer alone.
“Why the sudden apology? This isn’t like you,” she said, trying to keep her voice steady, fighting the urge to dwell on his rare gesture of kindness.
Allen glanced up briefly, his hands still carefully applying the liniment. “Your ankle’s
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worse than I thought. I shouldn’t have ignored it earlier.”
The sincerity in his voice struck a painful chord in Claire’s chest. She had long stopped expecting tenderness from him, and now, his apology felt like a cruel tease–offering a flicker of hope where none existed.
Biting her lip, she forced a smile, though it felt hollow.
“It’s just a sprain,” she said, her voice softer than she intended. “Nothing to apologize for.”
