Chapter 3: Fever Dreams and Cold Goodbyes

I searched his eyes for a sign, but found nothing. Just coldness.

He sneered:

"Care about you? If Grace hadn't overheard our call and insisted I come, do you think I'd even look at you?"

Somehow, my eyes started to burn. I turned my head slightly, fighting to hold back the tears.

I reached out and grabbed his slender fingers, gently shaking them as if talking to myself, trying to convince myself more than him:

"Since it's our wedding anniversary, how about we finally go on our honeymoon? Let's go to Iceland and see the northern lights..."

My voice was barely a whisper. He froze, his gaze falling on my hand. His eyes darkened a little. For a moment, I thought he might say yes.

"We'll see."

The next second, his phone rang. He took the call, didn’t look back, and hurried out of the room.

The door clicked shut behind him. I stared at it for a long moment, then picked up my phone and saw an unread message:

[Big brother's mine. You'll never win.]

The words blurred for a second. My vision swam. When Ethan Rivers came in, I was still staring blankly out the window, lost in thought.

The sky outside was pale, streaked with clouds. "Hey, you're up?" His voice broke through the fog in my head.

As my longtime rival, he never missed a chance to see me embarrassed. I could practically hear the smirk in his tone.

He had that half-smirk, hands shoved in his white coat pockets. I was too tired to argue. "Has the hospital notified us? When are we leaving?"

"Fifth of next month."

He shrugged, glancing at his phone. The silence stretched for a beat.

Counting the days, there was just over half a month left. Time was running out.

He pulled up a chair and sat next to me, his expression turning serious. He looked at me like he was about to say something important.

He leaned in, lowering his voice. "It's not too late to back out. The conditions over there are tough. You might not be able to handle it."

"Looking down on me?" I shot back, arching an eyebrow.

He hesitated, then finally asked, "By the way, can you really leave him?"

I was caught off guard for a second, then smiled, trying to deflect.

"Dr. Rivers, could you peel me a pear?" I asked, sticking out my tongue like a kid.

He paused, sighed, and did as I asked. He handed me the peeled pear, looking exasperated.

"Hurry up and finish the missing paperwork. It needs to be turned in this week."

He sounded like my mom, but I just nodded and took a bite, the juice running down my chin. The sweetness was a small comfort.

After being discharged, I started taking care of those things. The paperwork seemed endless. When I finished and saw it was still early, I decided to go to Mason's company. Maybe I just needed to see him one last time.

The city was waking up, sunlight glinting off glass towers. I’d been to his office a lot over the past three years. The old employees barely glanced up, but Grace’s eyes burned holes through me.

She stood by the reception desk, lips pressed into a thin line. She looked ready for a fight.

"Mr. Whitaker is in a meeting. No idea when he'll be done. Why don't you head back first?" Her voice was syrupy sweet, but her eyes were daggers.

"I'll wait for him in his office. Please bring me a coffee, thanks." I didn’t even look at her as I walked past.

Ignoring her angry glare, I walked past her into the office. I could feel her eyes on my back the whole way.

The office smelled faintly of cedar and expensive cologne. I let myself breathe it in. After she brought the coffee, she didn’t leave. Instead, she walked right up to me, hovering like a storm cloud, looking down with a smug expression.

She tossed her hair, looking every bit the wronged princess. "About that day, my brother explained everything. He doesn't love you at all. Why are you still clinging to him?" Her voice trembled just enough to sound convincing.

I lifted my eyelids and answered calmly, "Don't worry, soon..." I started, but didn’t get to finish.

Before I could finish, there was a commotion at the door. She’d timed it perfectly—she knelt down, picked up the coffee, and dumped it over her own head. Then she smashed the mug on the floor, making it look like I’d lost it and attacked her.

The coffee dripped down her hair, staining her blouse. I just stared, stunned. She seized the moment, crying and pleading:

"Savannah, if pouring coffee on me makes you feel better, I don't mind. Please don't force me to leave my brother, okay?"

Her voice trembled, tears streaking her mascara. I looked up and saw Mason behind her—his face was dark as thunder.

His eyes narrowed, jaw set. He looked at me like I was a stranger. "If I say she's lying, would you believe me?"

But Mason's expression said it all. His eyes were cold, colder than I’d ever seen.

"Savannah, you've gone too far."

He picked up the tearful Grace and was about to leave. My heart twisted. I couldn’t just let it go.

I couldn't stand being wronged, so I steeled myself, closed my eyes, and swiped my palm across the glass shards, calling out to him. The sting was instant.

The pain was sharp, immediate. "Mason!" I shouted, voice breaking.

He paused, his expression icy. For a second, I thought he might just keep walking.

"What trick are you playing now?" he said, voice flat and tired. I wanted to scream.

I raised my bleeding hand. "Look, I'm bleeding—worse than her." The blood was already dripping down my wrist.