2

##Chapter 2

"...It hurts..."

I woke up on the cold floor, awakened by excruciating stomach pain.

My whole body was covered in clammy cold sweat, like I'd just been pulled from water.

My stomach felt like countless small knives were cutting and churning inside.

That table of cold food had finally taken its revenge on me.

I gripped the sofa, struggling to crawl up.

"Medicine..." I mumbled, my body swaying unsteadily.

I pulled open the first drawer under the TV cabinet - empty.

The second one - also empty.

I knelt on the floor and dragged out the entire medicine box, opening it.

Not a single pill inside, just a few band-aids.

I remembered.

Last week, Fiona had called saying she couldn't adapt to the local environment and had some diarrhea.

Allen immediately packed up all our backup medicine and took it to her.

When I asked him: "What if we have an emergency after taking all the medicine?"

What was his answer?

He said: "You're so healthy, what emergency could you have? Fiona's alone, and when she's sick, no one takes care of her. She needs it more."

This memory completely drained what little strength I had left.

I slumped powerlessly on the carpet and took out my phone with its cracked screen.

Still usable.

I dialed Allen's number.

The ringtone rang for a long time, each ring like torture to my nerves.

Just when I was about to give up, he answered.

His tone was impatient, annoyed at being disturbed.

"What now?"

My voice was weak, barely forming sentences: "Allen... my stomach hurts terribly..."

"There's no medicine at home. Could you... come back?"

Before I could finish, he coldly interrupted.

"Just drink more hot water, won't that work?"

His voice held no concern, only perfunctory dismissal.

"Fiona just fell asleep here, her emotions are still unstable. I can't leave."

Suddenly, Fiona's delicate, sleepy voice came through the background: "Allen, who is it? Is she making trouble again?"

Allen immediately softened his voice: "Nothing, just a spam call. Go back to sleep."

A spam call.

So that's what I had become in his mouth - a spam call.

I was completely devastated.

Using my last bit of strength, I hung up the phone.

I opened a ride-hailing app and called a car.

Destination: the nearest hospital emergency room.

The car arrived.

I supported myself against the wall and shuffled to the door like an old person.

In the car, my phone buzzed.

A message from Allen.

A bank transfer screenshot, amount: five thousand.

Below it: "Medical expenses. Go see a doctor yourself."

A second later, another message: "Don't call again. It affects Fiona's rest."

I looked at that money, looked at those words.

I laughed until tears flowed.

Five years of marriage.

In his eyes, all my pain, all my struggles, could be dismissed with money.

Three years ago was the same.

My father had a sudden heart attack late at night and was rushed to the ICU. The doctor issued a critical condition notice.

I called him for help, my voice shaking uncontrollably.

He said: "Fiona is abroad at a very important competition. She lost and I need to comfort her."

"I'll transfer money to you right away. If the surgery costs aren't enough, let me know. Handle it yourself first."

History was repeating, precisely like a predetermined drama.

His way of hurting me was always so cruel, so lacking in creativity.

I arrived at the hospital.

The emergency room lights were blindingly white.

The doctor looked at my test results, frowning severely, and sternly questioned me.

"Acute gastroenteritis, and you waited this long to come? Don't you value your life?"

He looked up behind me - no one there.

"Where's your family? How could they let you come alone?"

I shook my head, my lips cracked and dry.

"I'm alone."

"Ridiculous!" the doctor scolded quietly. "We need to admit you for observation overnight. Call your family to sign the papers."

I took out my phone, looked at Allen's name, and finally called my friend instead.

The nurse inserted the cold needle into my arm.

The liquid dripped into my bloodstream, drop by drop, the icy sensation spreading through my entire body.

I stared at the ceiling.

Something inside me died along with that cold medicine, becoming hard, bit by bit.