Chapter2

Mark wasn't running fast, even pausing to straighten his shirt collar that had come slightly askew.

Seeing me, he stopped, brow furrowing. Those blue eyes—identical to his mother's—held no anxiety, only the irritation of being inconvenienced.

"Jennifer," he began, his voice steady as if scolding an unreasonable child. "See, you made it anyway. You got an Uber that fast even in rush hour. What was all that fuss in the garage for?"

I opened my mouth, my throat so dry no sound came out.

"Mark," I finally forced out the words, my heart gripped by an icy hand. "The surgery... failed."

He strode over, looking down at me, his tone carrying that familiar imperious command.

"Enough with the excuses. I know you're still mad about this morning. My mom wasn't feeling well, took an Uber to the hospital herself. Now go immediately, find your director, get my mom a decent private room."

I looked at him as if at a stranger.

"Mark, listen to me. The patient in the ER..."

"This hospital's environment is terrible. Germs everywhere."

He cut me off, pulling out his ever-present disinfectant wipes to clean his hands.

"You're a doctor here. Don't you have any pull? Or are you deliberately trying to stick my mom in a regular ward to punish me for not letting you in the car this morning?"

"No... Mark, the patient in the ER is..."

"Just go do it." He waved his hand impatiently, like shooing away a fly. "And as a doctor, if you can't even arrange a room, what kind of attending are you?"

"Mark! The patient in the ER is Mom!" I finally shouted, my voice trembling with emotion. "Your mother!"

The air seemed to freeze for a second.

Mark went still, then let out a cold laugh.

He looked at me, his eyes full of contempt and disbelief.

"Jennifer, have you lost your mind?" He mocked. "You're going to say something like that out of spite? Are you so bitter about me refusing you the car this morning that you've sunk to this level?"

"I'm not being spiteful!" My eyes were hot with tears. "It's true! The patient who just died in the ER—that's your mother!"

"Impossible." He cut me off with absolute certainty, his tone blindly confident. "My mom just had her old condition flare up. How could something happen? Don't think you can make me feel guilty with such a pathetic lie."

"Mark, listen to me, it really is her..."

"Enough!" He cut me off brutally, his eyes turning cold. "Jennifer, this joke isn't funny at all. You curse an elder over something so trivial—what kind of vicious person are you?"

He stepped around me, heading toward the patient ward.

"Mark, wait, I need to tell you..."

Just then, a nurse walked out of the nearby office, clipboard in hand.

"Mr. Mark Wilson?" the nurse asked.

Mark stopped, turning to face the nurse, his expression immediately shifting to businesslike efficiency. "That's me."

"Please come with me for a moment. We need you to sign something—urgent paperwork regarding the patient," the nurse said.

Hearing this, Mark's brow smoothed out.

He thought it was routine admission paperwork, that arrogant superiority returning to his face.

"See, I told you it was nothing." He glanced back at me, his tone dripping with mockery. "Just some paperwork, and you're acting like the sky is falling."

He turned to follow the nurse, completely missing what she said next.

"Mark! Wait! That's not..." I called after him, but my voice was swallowed by the corridor's echo.

My heart sank to the bottom.