Chapter 3

By the time the paramedics arrived, I couldn't string a full sentence together.

My throat felt like it was closing up, and my breathing grew shallow and frantic.

The angry red rash had spread from my arms to my neck and face, burning like thousands of fire ants crawling under my flesh.

As the emergency crew lifted me onto the gurney, I faintly heard the radio dispatch.

"Male, twenty-six. Severe anaphylaxis, widespread urticaria, suspected laryngeal edema. ETA ten minutes to ER."

I closed my eyes on the stretcher, thinking: At least I'm still conscious.

At least I'm not dead yet.

The moment we reached the ER, the medical staff hooked me up to an oxygen mask and shoved an IV into my vein.

Lying on the hospital bed, I stared at the sterile white ceiling tiles.

The harsh white lights looked just like the ones in the operating room from years ago.

Once the allergic reaction was finally brought under control, the attending physician came in for rounds.

He flipped through my chart, his face stern.

"Your allergy is critical. If you had arrived thirty minutes later, your airway would have closed off completely. You were looking at full anaphylactic shock and suffocation."

I nodded weakly, unable to speak.

The doctor glanced around the empty room. "Where's your family? Why are you alone?"

"She's... busy."

The exact same excuse I gave the nurses earlier.

The doctor looked at me with quiet sympathy, didn't press further, and wrote 'Keep for six-hour observation' on the chart.

The ward was dead quiet, save for the old man in the next bed snoring softly.

I watched the IV fluid drip down drop by drop. Suddenly, my phone buzzed.

It was Lauren.

I answered.

"Chase, where the hell are you? Why haven't you cooked dinner yet?"

No concern. Just cold, impatient interrogation.

"I'm at the hospital."

"Hospital? What are you throwing a fit about now?"

"Severe allergic shock."

The line went dead silent for two seconds.

Then, Julian's voice drifted through the speaker, faint but deliberate enough to be heard.

"Lauren... is he blaming those oysters? But allergies really shouldn't be that bad..."

His voice sounded trembling and wronged, as if he were the real victim here.

Lauren's tone instantly hardened into venom.

"Chase, did you do this on purpose?"

"What?"

"Julian told you it wouldn't be serious, and yet here you are, running to the hospital!"

"Are you pulling this pathetic stunt just to force an apology out of me?"

My grip on the phone tightened until my knuckles turned white.

"Lauren... the ER doctor said thirty more minutes and I would've choked to death."

"Stop exaggerating! Do you honestly think I'm that stupid?"

Julian's gentle voice floated through the receiver again.

"Lauren, don't be too hard on him. Maybe he's just really fragile."

"I mean, he spends so much time home alone. Now that you're finally around, he probably just wants your attention."

Fragile.

Attention-seeking.

A pity play.

The words pierced through me like needles, but I didn't even have the strength left to feel the sting.

Lauren let out a heavy, disgusted sigh.

"Enough with the drama, Chase."

"You ate something, you got a rash, get the meds and get your ass home."

"Stop lying around in the hospital playing the victim. There's a pile of chores waiting for you here."

"Bye."

She hung up.

I placed the phone beside my pillow and stared blankly at the ceiling.

The elderly man in the next bed rolled over, muttering under his breath, "Kid... your people are pure poison."

A bitter smirk tugged at the corner of my mouth, but I said nothing.

By the time the six-hour observation ended, it was already 1:00 AM.

The doctor repeatedly reminded me to rest, avoid allergens at all costs, and return for a follow-up in a week.

I signed my discharge papers and called an Uber home.

At the front door, I rang the bell.

I waited on the cold porch for what felt like an eternity before the door finally swung open.

Lauren stood there in her silk pajama set, hair disheveled, rubbing her half-open eyes.

She gave me a cold glance and immediately turned back inside.

"You're finally back? Done throwing your tantrum?"

I remained by the entryway, completely still.

The guest room door was firmly shut; Julian was sound asleep inside.

Lauren walked over to the couch, slumped into the cushions, and checked the time on her phone.

"It's past one in the morning. What the hell do you want from me?"

I walked over and stopped on the other side of the coffee table.

"Lauren, let's get a divorce."