Chapter 7
Claire felt a surge of fear that if she allowed herself to get tangled in these emotions, her resolve to go abroad and join Médecins Sans Frontières might falter.
Taking a steadying breath, she spoke, her voice deliberately light. “You’re the famous Dr. Brown. Now that you’re offering me a
Massage for free, I should be thanking you.
After all, most people can’t even get an appointment with you. I must be skipping the line.”
Allen’s brow furrowed, a flicker of irritation passing over his face. He couldn’t shake the feeling that her words were tinged with sarcasm, as if she were trying to provoke him.
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Suppressing the frustration bubbling inside him, Allen turned his attention back to gently massaging her swollen ankle, the tension in his shoulders easing as he focused on the task at hand.
It wasn’t until the first round of massage was done that he spoke, his voice steady but carrying a weight of finality.
“Evelyn’s house was broken into. I’ve arranged for her to stay here for a few days.”
Claire froze, the pieces falling into place. Now she understood why his behavior had seemed so strange.
No wonder he had been uncharacteristically considerate earlier. The removal of her house key, the sudden tidying up of the guest room -all of it had been planned long before. Evelyn’s extended stay had been a decision
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Allen made without consulting her.
Her heart tightened, but she chose not to protest. Her smile was faint, but there was a sharp edge of bitterness beneath it.
“It’s fine. Do what you think is best.” Her voice was light, almost indifferent, cutting off any explanations Allen might have been preparing. Seeing her acceptance without resistance, the tension in his face eased, and he relaxed slightly.
“You’re sure you don’t mind?” His voice was laced with disbelief, as if her compliance was something unexpected.
“Not at all,” she replied, her words unwavering.
Allen let out a quiet sigh of relief. Standing up, he handed her the bottle of liniment.
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“Apply it again in half an hour. I’ll go keep Evelyn company for now–she must be bored sitting alone in the living room. I’ll check back on you later.”
Claire nodded, offering a faint smile, but her heart felt heavy, the ache inside deepening with each passing moment.
He had gotten the response he wanted, and now he was off to Evelyn, leaving her behind once again.
As his hand touched the doorknob to leave, he paused, turning back with an almost imperceptible shift in his tone.
“Claire, Evelyn’s sensitive. Next time, don’t be so cold in front of her. It could upset her.”
He was referring to the way she had quietly
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retreated to the bedroom when she’d come home. But what else was she supposed to do? Sit down and eat their leftovers?
Claire’s grip on the liniment bottle tightened until her knuckles turned white. Still, she forced a smile onto her face, even though it felt like the most painful thing she could do.
“Got it. Please apologize to Evelyn for me.”
Her compliance seemed to satisfy Allen. With a curt nod, he turned and finally left the
room.
The moment the door clicked shut behind him, Claire’s composure crumbled. Her tears fell in torrents, unchecked and relentless.
This was her fiancé. The man she had loved for three years.
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And yet, not once had his heart truly been hers.
The sharp pain in her ankle seemed insignificant next to the deep, consuming ache in her chest. Her heart, battered and broken, felt as though it was being crushed under the weight of her sorrow.
When the time came for the second massage, Claire didn’t wait for him. She tended to it herself, fully aware that Allen wouldn’t be returning.
She lay alone in the silence of the cold, empty room, the muffled sound of laughter from the living room below only amplifying her isolation.
Eventually, thirst drove her to leave the bedroom. Limping down the stairs, she made her way to the water dispenser, only to find
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that her usual cup was gone.
In its place was a new one–an unfamiliar
cup.
It took her only a moment to realize who it belonged to.
