Chapter 13 Scheming to Become Mrs Stone
Fate had a cruel sense of irony. The only exit route led us directly past that hospital room.
Maverick was there to discharge Reagan. As we turned the corner, the four of us collided in the hallway.
My eyes flickered to Reagan. She glowed with health–high heels, short skirt, cheeks rosy.
Not a trace of illness.
Meanwhile, I stood there pale and hollow–eyed, the very picture of exhaustion next to her radiant vitality.
She greeted me first, her voice dripped with faux concern, laced with triumphant gleam.
“Stephie, what brings you to the hospital? What’s the matter?”
As she spoke, she practically glued herself to Maverick.
There was no doubt that she already knew about the divorce. The crown of Mrs. Stone” was within her grasp.
I had no words for either of them. Stepping around the pair, I moved to leave–until Maverick blocked my path.
“Where are you going?”
He spoke, and I noticed his voice was hoarse.
Up close, I noticed the bloodshot eyes, the stubble shadowing his jaw, the purplish crescents beneath his lashes.
The signs of sleepless nights I used to soothe with homemade tonics and carefully timed meals.
But now, I felt nothing.
“Home.”
I replied coldly, and Maverick stared at me. “I’ll drive you.”
“No thanks. Yrian will take me.”
“What exactly is your relationship with Yrian?”
The question burst out like dammed–up floodwater. “We divorce, and you’re instantly glued to him? Explain this, Stephie.”
The absurdity of his question almost made me laugh.
Here he stood, another woman wrapped around him, yet I owed explanations?
“Maverick, you have no say in my life anymore.”
I took a deep breath. “Whether I’m with Yrian or with another man, it’s none of your business.”
A sharp twinge stabbed my abdomen–lingering trauma from the surgery, no doubt worsened by stress and sleepless nights.
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Chapter 13 Scheming to Become Mrs Stone
Beads of sweat pricked my forehead as I hunched slightly.
Yrian caught the movement instantly.
“What’s wrong? Stomach pain again?”
“It’s nothing.” I shook my head. “It’s probably just an old ulcer.”
“You have an ulcer? When did you have it?”
Maverick finally showed concern for me–belated concern, like flowers on a grave.
“Yrian, there’s medicine in my bag.”
Ignoring Maverick, I gestured to Yrian.
Everything that Maverick should have done before, Yrian was now doing it for me.
After taking the medicine, it dulled the ache. I didn’t want to see the two of them anymore and tugged Yrian
away.
As we left, I could hear Reagan whined coquettishly, “Maverick, what should we eat later? I’m starving, let’s stuff ourselves after this! Your treat this time!”
Her voice was nauseating, to say the least.
His reply surprised me. He said, “You claimed your stomach hurt earlier. And you want to stuff yourself? Go home and rest. I’ll have the maid make you some porridge. I have… things to handle.”
“Maverick, I just want you to accompany me-”
Her petulant protests faded as we turned the corner.
When I got home, my parents had prepared a table full of delicious dishes for me. As I took bite after bite, I was reminded of the aroma from my childhood, and my tears slowly welled up.
“Look at you, you’ve lost weight. Have you not been doing well recently?”
“It’s been a while since I came back to see you. This time, I’ll stay a few more days.”
Compared to the last time I came back, my parents had aged a lot.
I caught a glimpse of the silver hair on my father’s head and the deepening wrinkles on my mother’s face, realizing that my world had been revolving around Maverick for so long that I hadn’t come back to spend time with them in a very long time.
But this time, I could stay with them as long as I liked.
My dad nudged the ribs toward me, reminding me of my favorite dish.
I blinked back tears, focusing on the flavors bursting across my tongue.
