Chapter 2

"Fine, fine! We're going! You're acting like such a baby," Chloe groaned, reluctantly grabbing her purse.

Just as we opened the door, my parents and my sister, Emily, arrived. When they saw me still standing in the hallway, sweating and pale, their faces fell.

"Why are you still here?!" Emily yelled. "Get downstairs right now!"

But before we could cross the threshold, Logan clicked his tongue and touched his hair.

"Ah, I forgot to put hair wax in. Can we wait another minute? I just need to style it real quick."

My mom couldn't hold back her anger.

"You stay here and style your hair then! We are taking Ethan to the hospital first. This is an emergency!"

Logan slowly rubbed the wax between his palms, his tone dripping with fake politeness.

"Auntie, don't be so anxious. I'm almost done. Let's all go together. I came all this way to visit, and I want to help."

"If you want to come, move your ass! My brother doesn't have time for your vanity!" Emily snapped.

Logan looked hurt, his movements slowing down even more.

"Why are you shouting at me? I'm trying my best. I came all this way to visit, and now I have to deal with someone getting sick. Talk about bad luck."

My mom ignored him, helping me down the stairs. My dad and Emily ran ahead to start the car. But Chloe didn't follow. She stepped right back into the apartment.

"Take your time, Logan. Don't let them ruin your mood," Chloe said gently.

My mom turned and gave Chloe a long, chilling look.

I took a sharp breath as the movement sent a fresh wave of pain through my body. I looked at Chloe.

"We have to be at the hospital by 11:00. It is 10:35 now. Are you coming or not?"

Seeing how weak I was, Chloe hesitated for a second. She walked over, grabbed a random painkiller from the kitchen, and shoved it into my hand.

"Take this. Is your pain really worse than period cramps? Is it worse than childbirth? Stop being so dramatic. Logan will be ready in a second."

I collapsed onto the sofa, curling into a ball. Any slight movement felt like a hot knife twisting in my groin.

Logan was still preening in front of the mirror, admiring himself.

He caught my eye through the reflection, saw the cold sweat dripping down my face, and casually snapped his fingers at me.

"Hey bro, do I look good? Just need a splash of cologne and we're good to go. Chloe, which one? Dior Sauvage or Bleu de Chanel?"

Our neighbor, who was walking by the open door, couldn't help but speak up.

"Kid, what are you doing styling your hair at a time like this? Get this man to the hospital!"

But Chloe stepped forward and slammed the door in the neighbor's face.

"Mind your own business!" she yelled through the door. Then she turned to me, her face twisted in anger. "And you, Ethan. Are you happy now? Letting the neighbors look down on me? If you have this much energy to complain, maybe you should learn a thing or two from Logan. You wear the same three outfits every week. You look pathetic."

I was in too much pain to speak.

Seeing my silence, Chloe softened her tone slightly. "Just five more minutes, okay? Once he's finished, we'll go."

Another wave of agony hit me, making me gag.

"Chloe," I whispered, my voice cold. "On our anniversary, you wanted to go drinking with Logan. You two got so wasted the night before that we missed our anniversary dinner. On Valentine's Day, when we were supposed to get our marriage license, Logan said he wanted to come and take photos for us. But he overslept, and by the time we got to City Hall, it was closed. We still aren't legally married because of him. And today, I am dying of pain, and you're making me wait for him to finish styling his hair. Are you sure about this?"

Chloe's face completely darkened.

"So, you've been keeping a scorecard this whole time?"

Logan took a dramatic step back, putting his hands up.

"Whoa, Ethan, that's low. If you have this much free time, maybe you should work on yourself instead of picking fights with your girlfriend. Whatever, I don't want to argue with you. You're ruining my look."

I looked at him. Back in college, he was always like this—obsessed with his appearance, unable to leave the dorm without spending an hour in front of the mirror.

It was 10:42 PM. I could barely walk.

I stopped looking at them. Clutching the wall, I began to drag myself toward the door.

"You two enjoy yourselves. I'm leaving."