Chapter 7
Unexpectedly, Jack returned to the hospital room sooner than I expected.
He brought my favorite chicken congee, carefully blowing on a spoonful before holding it up to my lips.
I turned my head away, my brows knitting together in confusion.
Jack hesitated under my stare, pressing his lips into a thin line as he slowly lowered the spoon.
“Emily, whether you believe me or not, I need to explain. Zoe and I never slept together.”
His voice was careful, almost pleading. Then, after a pause, he sighed.
“Actually… can’t we just keep going like this? You’ve held on for two years already. What’s a little longer?”
“I’m not going to be with Zoe forever either. I just, I can’t accept how she walked away like I meant nothing, only to come back like she could pick up right where we left off. Who does she think she is?”
His voice grew thick with emotion, his eyes turning red.
I stared at him, unable to believe what I was hearing.
This… this was how he saw things?
I had always thought Jack was just immature, reckless, incapable of staying loyal.
But no.
He knew.
He knew I had been enduring everything. He knew exactly what Zoe’s departure had meant back then.
And yet, he still did this.
What did that make me? Some collateral damage in his pathetic war against Zoe? Just because he felt wronged, he thought he had the right to drag me through hell?
Jack glanced at me cautiously, hesitating before adding, “Emily… just give me a little more time. A few more days, and I’ll cut things off with Zoe for good. Then we can go back to the way we were before, ”
I had heard enough.
I grabbed the bowl of congee from his hands and, without a second thought, dumped it over his head.
“Get out.”
Jack stood there, frozen. The warm congee dripped from his hair, trailing down his face and soaking into his shirt before he finally reacted. Swearing under his breath, he rushed into the bathroom.
When he emerged minutes later, his hair still damp, his face twisted with frustration.
He shot me a hard glare, then punched the doorframe before storming out.
I thought that would be the end of it, that he’d finally leave me alone after this.
But I had underestimated just how shameless Jack Sullivan could be.
The next day, he was back with more food, sitting in my hospital room for hours, refusing to leave no matter how many times I told him to.
I was beyond fed up.
So, when he finally stepped out, I immediately asked the doctor for my discharge papers.
But barely ten minutes later, Jack came striding back into the room, his expression unreadable.
“Emily,” he said smoothly, “the doctor told me you’re trying to get discharged? No problem. If you’re tired of the hospital, we’ll go home.”
I turned away, my hands clenching into fists under the blanket.
So now he had hospital staff reporting to him? Unbelievable.
“I’m not tired of the hospital,” I bit out. “I’m tired of you. Can you just disappear from my life already?”
Jack acted like he hadn’t heard me. He busied himself packing up my things, then left to finalize the discharge paperwork.
And just like that, I had no choice but to go back with him, back to the house that had once been our home.
Only now, it felt nothing like one.
