Chapter 5
644words
The lunch box hit the floor, scattering food everywhere, but no one cared.
Quentin shot to his feet, disbelief tightening his voice.
"You… what did you just say?"
Startled, the nurse stared at him, puzzled.
"Are you Cammy Mason's family member? Cammy was hospitalized a few days ago for a miscarriage. She forgot to take her medication.
"I just saw her walk out of this room, so I came to ask. Which one of you is her family?"
Quentin opened his mouth, his face draining of color.
"I… I'm her husband."
The moment the nurse heard that, her previously kind expression vanished. She looked him up and down, a sharp, mocking glint in her eyes.
"So you're Cammy's irresponsible husband? Your wife had a miscarriage and has been in the hospital all this time, and you didn't bother visiting her even once? Impressive."
Quentin's pupils trembled. He forced out the words, his voice rough.
"I… I didn't know she miscarried…"
The nurse let out a cold, derisive laugh.
"She's been in the hospital for days. And as her husband, you didn't think to check on her at all?"
She swept her gaze around the room, pausing on the kettle and other daily necessities.
"Looks like the two of you have been staying here together for a while. Not once did it cross your mind to ask where your wife was? What she was going through?"
With each jab of sarcasm, Quentin's face grew more ashen.
He suddenly remembered the day he'd run into me in the hospital—the ghostly pallor of my face.
He remembered the chicken soup in front of me the night he returned home, and how I'd said, "Clarice made it for me."
Now he realized… that soup was because… because I…
Quentin slammed his fist into the wall. Regret and guilt crushed the air from his lungs.
The nurse frowned and snapped, "This is a hospital. Control yourself."
"What kind of attitude is that?" Rita suddenly shouted, unable to hold back.
She had only just learned I'd miscarried. Seeing Quentin nearly collapse under the weight of it sent panic shooting through her.
The nurse snorted. "What attitude? He's an irresponsible husband, and I can't comment on it?
"And you—his little sister—don't you care about your sister-in-law either?"
Rita froze, then instinctively blurted, "Sister-in-law? I'm not— I'm Quentin's…"
"His what?" Suspicion flickered across the nurse's face.
Rita bit her lip, shot a shy glance at Quentin, and murmured, "I'm… a childhood friend."
Bang!
The nurse slammed her tray down, sneering.
"Oh, so you're a pair of shameless adulterers. No wonder neither of you bothered to care about his wife after she miscarried.
"People like you—immoral and shameless—ought to be reported and handed over to the authorities!"
Rita lurched upright in bed, her hand trembling as she pointed at the nurse.
"Y-You—you say that again!"
Hands on her hips, the nurse leaned forward, every inch of her young face drenched in contempt.
"Immoral. Shameless. Adulterers."
Rita had lived wrapped in careful treatment ever since her depression diagnosis. No one dared upset her. She had never suffered humiliation like this.
Now, provoked to the breaking point, she snapped—grabbing the book beside her and hurling it at the nurse like she'd gone mad.
"Stop!"
Quentin had barely recovered when he saw what was happening. His shout came too late.
…
But it was already over.
The corner of the book scraped across the nurse's eye, leaving a long, red mark.
"Ah!" The nurse touched the blood at the corner of her eye and shrieked. She shoved the door open.
"Help! There's a disturbance!"
Several nearby doctors and nurses rushed in. When they saw the bleeding cut near the nurse's eye, they all sucked in a breath.
The wound wasn't large, but it came dangerously close to her eye.
