Chapter 10: My Boyfriend Just Died
1304words
It was evening, and I realized I had slept for hours. I fumbled to turn on the light, but I couldn't move—my stomach hurt too badly.
Since graduating from design school, I'd been so focused on work that I had few friends. The only people at the company I could really talk to were Linda and Noah. Over the past few months, as Ethan's assistant, Noah had frequent work interactions with me, and we gradually became friends who could help each other.
I tried calling Linda but got no answer. Then I called Noah, who was on vacation but thankfully picked up.
"Alia, what is it now?" Noah's tone carried a hint of teasing.
"Noah..." I was sweating profusely, too weak to move.
Hearing something wrong in my voice, Noah urgently asked, "Are you feeling unwell? Where are you? Can you move?"
The barrage of questions was too much for me to answer. "Come to my place... ugh..."
I was drifting in and out of consciousness.
Within ten minutes, I heard banging on my door.
"BANG!" The sound of the door falling.
"Alia!"
A familiar voice reached my ears.
"Unbelievable!"
His tone wasn't pleasant, but his complaint carried a hint of concern.
My small frame was lifted into his arms, and I smelled that familiar scent again—cedar and mint.
When I woke up, I was lying in a private hospital room.
"You're awake."
A familiar voice.
I slowly turned my head to see that face that made countless women swoon.
Ethan was still in his suit—black shirt, black tie—standing over me, looking down just like he had that night.
Good Lord, why am I thinking about that night at a time like this...
"Mr. West, why are you here?" My cheeks flushed red.
"Noah is resting." Ethan stood with his hands in his pockets, saying little but staring intently at me.
"Thank you." I sighed. Him again, like a ghost I couldn't shake.
Was fate trying to tie us together with steel wire? How persistent!
"Still in pain?" he asked.
"Not anymore," I answered.
"Was the instant ramen good?"
"......"
He must have seen the cup of ramen I hadn't finished in my kitchen.
"Where's your boyfriend?"
Ethan looked at me, trying to read the answer in my eyes.
"He died yesterday."
I didn't want to hear him lecture me. I was miserable enough without adding insult to injury.
"Heh..." He pursed his lips and nodded. "That's good news."
Just then, the doctor arrived.
"West, here's the medication for her stomach. Have her take it on schedule. If there are no issues, she can be discharged tomorrow. You should take better care of her!"
The female doctor, who appeared to be in her fifties, seemed quite familiar with him.
"Thank you, Dr. South." Ethan took the medicine.
They talked at the doorway for several minutes before Dr. South finally left.
"Can I leave tonight?" I wanted to escape.
Ethan placed the medicine on the bedside table and sat on the edge of my bed. "No."
I glanced at the redness on his left cheek and awkwardly fidgeted with my hands, still thinking about how I had slapped him that day.
He didn't seem embarrassed at all. His phone kept ringing, but he showed no intention of leaving.
"Mr. West, your ordered meal has arrived," a young woman walked in.
Ethan finally moved away from the bed.
The woman set up a table over the bed and placed the food on it.
I was stunned—a delicate plate of pasta, a bowl of gentle cream of mushroom soup, steamed fish, and a vegetable salad from "Rosetta" restaurant, both suitable for someone with stomach issues and undeniably high-end.
"Eat," Ethan unwrapped a set of cutlery and handed it to me. "Friendly price, $250. Remember to pay me back."
I looked at the cutlery he was holding, then at his model-worthy hands, took the utensils, and began my first meal since the previous night.
He was mocking me. A $250 dinner was practically ridiculing my foolishness for starving myself over a man who wasn't worth it.
Well, I had to admit, I shouldn't have starved myself for that dead man.
"Do you have any friends who could stay with you tonight?"
"Don't worry, I won't die. No need for company."
"Alright, I have things to do. Claire is outside if you need anything, or you can message me."
Ethan checked the time and was about to leave when he suddenly remembered something and turned back to ask:
"Since your boyfriend just died, have you considered my question from before?"
I nearly choked on the pasta I had just put in my mouth.
"West, be human, please. I really don't want to date anyone." I couldn't eat anymore.
Ever since he found out about Jack, he'd been hovering around me. It felt like he had an agenda.
"Fine, I won't ask again." Ethan's expression remained unchanged as he walked out.
Watching him leave, I suddenly felt I'd been too harsh. After all, he was the one who brought me to the hospital.
---
At T Bar, Ethan took a sip from his glass.
Sitting beside him was his cousin.
"This is the first time I've seen a woman reject you and dare to call you by your name. She's wild! No wonder you like her."
"I wouldn't say I like her," Ethan felt uneasy.
"If this isn't liking someone, what is?" His cousin tilted his head, looking at him.
"Every time we meet, you bring her up. Can you honestly say you don't have feelings for her? Look at your neck—have those love bites faded yet?"
His cousin chuckled and shook his head.
Ethan held his forehead. Lately, he had been thinking about her constantly. Even without speaking, just seeing her made him feel better.
[I'm sorry, Mr. West.] I sent an apologetic text.
[It's fine.] Ethan looked at it and replied immediately.
[Thank you, Mr. West.]
[Mm.]
[$250 transferred for dinner]
Ethan paused, took a sip of his drink, opened his banking app, and returned the $250.
[You can treat me next time.]
I was typing for a while but sent no reply.
His deep eyes carried a hint of languidness beneath his furrowed brow.
"My cousin is right. If you don't like her, why go rescue her? Wouldn't calling 911 have been easier?" Noah clinked his glass against Ethan's.
Ethan remained silent, his mind filled with images of my clear, beautiful eyes, like a shimmering lake, both transparent and deep.
---
The next day, Ethan arranged my discharge and took me home.
"Are you moving?" Ethan looked at the cluttered space.
"Yes." My gaze fell on the door that had been removed.
"This place is nice. Why are you moving?" He wandered around, spotting his familiar jacket on the sofa.
"My ex-boyfriend died. I'm afraid his ghost might visit." I didn't know how to get rid of him.
He casually found a place to sit, showing no intention of leaving.
"You took the door off?"
"Yes."
I was exasperated. "Getting a professional to fix the door costs $300, but a locksmith would only charge $30. Do you always prefer violent solutions?"
Looking at the small amount of luggage, I felt even more stressed. Moving wasn't simple, and finding a suitable place would be even harder.
"All I knew was that you were dying." Ethan crossed his legs and asked, "When are you moving out?"
"Before next Wednesday." Jack was persistent. Even if he was engaged, he would still come looking for me if I didn't move.
"Since the door is already off, why not move tonight?"
"Move where?" I took a bottle of water from the refrigerator and tossed it to him. He caught it effortlessly.
"To my apartment."
