Chapter 3
When it came time to order, Adrian rattled off a list of dishes effortlessly: “No ginger, go easy on the spice, extra vinegar, simmer it until it’s really soft…”
All Zoe Young’s preferences.
Not until the waiter turned to Liana and asked, “And for you, ma’am?” did he seem to remember her presence. He glanced at her as if waking from a daze.
“Anything’s fine,” she murmured, stirring her tea. The steam blurred whatever emotions lingered in her eyes.
When the food arrived, Liana quietly picked at the stir–fried vegetables in front of her.
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Then her throat itched–suddenly and sharply. She realized with horror that a few pieces of mushroom floated in her soup.
She was allergic.
Adrian used to remember all her allergies-
Even during field drills, he’d specially prepare separate rations for her.
But now, he’d ordered a full pot of mushroom stew.
“Liana?” Zoe cried out. “Your neck–it’s turning red!”
Adrian looked up. Seeing the flushed color in her cheeks, he shoved back his chair. “Did you eat mushrooms?!”
Her breathing quickened, vision blurring.
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Through the haze, she saw Adrian rush toward her–only to freeze as Zoe let out a
scream.
“Landon… I–I’m spotting again…”
Time stopped.
She watched Adrian stand paralyzed, his gaze flitting wildly between her and Zoe.
Then he scooped Zoe up in his arms.
As he turned, he called out over his shoulder to the waiter, “Please take this lady to the hospital!”
“Ma’am, hang in there!” the waiter’s shout gradually faded away.
Just before she lost consciousness
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A completely, Liana heard Zoe’s tearful coo:
“Landon, what if something happens to our baby…”
The sterile scent of disinfectant made Liana frown.
When she opened her eyes, a nurse was adjusting the IV drip.
“Thank goodness you’re awake!” the nurse sighed in relief. “Ten more minutes and the allergic reaction would’ve suffocated you.”
Liana opened her mouth, but her throat burned too badly to speak.
Adrian’s image–holding Zoe in his arms and leaving resolutely–wouldn’t stop replaying in her mind.
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She shut her eyes. Her tears soaked silently into the pillow.
For three days, she lay in that hospital bed alone.
The rash from the allergy felt like ants gnawing her skin. Her throat was so swollen she couldn’t even swallow.
In the most unbearable dead of night, she overheard two nurses whispering in the corridor-
“Room 408, that pregnant woman? Her contractions were from emotional distress. Her man hasn’t left her side once.”
“Unlike 402. Anaphylactic shock, almost died. Her husband didn’t even show up- might as well be dead.”
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a buried her face in the fectant–scented sheets.
93ori ter
y were right.
artis husband was dead.
Wop died during a peacekeeping mission.
98e died six months ago.
AW
le had died… on the day he willingly chose o become someone else’s husband.
The sunlight on her discharge day was so bright it stung her eyes.
Liana Langston had just stepped down from the stairs with her luggage when the roar of a familiar engine echoed.
A dark green military jeep screeched to a
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stop in front of the outpatient building.
The door flung open, and Adrian Graham bolted out, just in time to catch Zoe Young walking out from her prenatal checkup.
His hand cradled her lower back protectively, and his voice was gentle, like he was afraid of startling her. “The doctor said your body’s weak. Don’t walk too fast…”
That soft, coaxing tone–it was the same one he’d used years ago when she twisted her ankle, and he carried her across ten miles of mountain trails.
Standing in the shadow of a sycamore tree, Liana watched the jeep speed off, scattering dried leaves under its wheels.
The black exhaust it belched blurred her vision, settling like filthy snow across her
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shoulders.
He never once looked back.
As dusk fell, dry leaves swirled up the steps in the cold wind.
Liana Langston dragged her exhausted body home, only to see a tall figure standing in front of her door from a distance.
Adrian Graham.
Beside his boots were seven or eight shopping bags. Cans of malted milk, bottles of herbal syrup, and jars of fruit preserves gleamed under the moonlight.
In his hand, he held a pouch of herbal cough remedy–her most effective remedy when her coughing fits flared up.
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“Liana,” he strode up to her in a flash, crunching a dry leaf beneath his boots. “Are you feeling better from the allergy?”
How laughable.
In broad daylight, he acted like she was invisible. Now, suddenly, he remembered she needed the remedy?
“Thank you for your concern, Landon,” she said, stepping aside to reach for her keys. “I’ll live.”
He abruptly pressed down on her hand at the lock, his palm burning. “Please take these…”
“Landon!” Zoe Young’s tearful voice pierced the night. “The Criminal Investigation Division found out I was selling military supplies!”
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