Wendy Lawson dragged herself home, her face pale and her body exhausted. As soon as she stepped into the house, the familiar scent of incense filled her nose. Aunt Emily was at the altar, burning sticks of incense, her lips moving silently in prayer. When she saw Wendy walk in, her eyes lit up with a glimmer of hope.
But Wendy only shook her head.
The hope in Aunt Emily's eyes dimmed almost instantly. She sighed, disappointment evident on her face, but instead of saying anything harsh, she simply softened her tone. "Your clothes are all soaked. Go take a shower before you catch a cold."
Wendy nodded slightly, not saying a word. She made her way to her room, her body heavy with exhaustion, and quickly showered to wash off the day's weariness. She took her medicine afterward, hoping it would fend off the chill that had settled deep in her bones. But no matter what she did, the cold seemed to cling to her, and by the time she lay down to rest, she already felt the fever rising.
Her head was spinning, and the world around her felt like it was tilting.
At midnight, just as she was trying to drift into sleep, her phone rang. It was Vivian, unable to wait any longer and dying to know how things had gone.
"Wendy, how did it go?" Vivian's voice came through, filled with excitement.
Wendy's voice was hoarse as she replied,"Not good. Nothing happened."
Vivian, on the other end, was shocked."What?! John Smith must be a saint reincarnated, right? You guys were practically all over each other, kissing and everything, and he still resisted? Wendy, are you sure there's nothing wrong with him? Maybe... he has some kind of problem down there?"
Wendy blushed, her voice barely a whisper as she answered, "No, I don't think so. Everything seemed... normal."
Vivian let out a sigh of relief. "Well, as long as he's not sick or anything, I'm sure you can win him over eventually. Just keep trying! He'll fall for you."
But Wendy only smiled bitterly to herself. Deep down, she knew the truth. Unless John Smith wanted her, no amount of seduction would work. He was too self-controlled, too careful. If he didn't want to be caught, she couldn't catch him.
They chatted for a little while longer before Wendy finally hung up, exhausted beyond words. She drifted off to sleep again, her fever tugging her deeper into unconsciousness.
When she woke up the next day, it was already noon. Aunt Emily was nowhere to be seen, and the house was eerily quiet. Wendy felt even worse than before. Her head was pounding, her throat dry, and her body ached all over. She grabbed a thermometer and checked her temperature—39.5°C.
Wendy forced herself out of bed, ate a little something to keep her strength up, and then called a taxi to take her to the hospital.
The hospital was packed. She waited for nearly an hour before her number was called. The doctor prescribed her an IV, and by the time she was hooked up to the drip, it was already 3 p.m.
Wendy was utterly drained from days of running around. She leaned back in the uncomfortable chair of the infusion room, her body relaxing for the first time in what felt like forever. Before long, exhaustion overtook her, and she fell into a deep sleep.
Meanwhile, John Smith had brought his mother to the hospital for her medication. They were on their way out when, by chance, they passed the infusion room. His eyes landed on Wendy, who was fast asleep, her pale face framed by her dark hair, her delicate hand pierced by the needle of the IV. She looked fragile, her beauty softened by illness.
John's gaze lingered on her for a few extra seconds.
Mrs. Smith noticed the change in her son's expression and followed his line of sight. A spark of recognition lit up her face as she spotted Wendy.
"John, do you know that young lady over there?"
John's voice was calm and indifferent."We've only met once."
Mrs. Smith's eyes brightened."What a coincidence! She's the one who helped me with the registration earlier. I didn't realize you two had met."
John glanced at Wendy again. His face remained neutral, but there was something in his eyes that flickered—an emotion he quickly suppressed.
At that moment, Wendy stirred. Slowly, she opened her eyes, still groggy from sleep. Her gaze locked onto John, standing there in front of her. Startled, she tried to sit up too quickly, completely forgetting about the IV needle in her hand. The sudden movement tugged the needle, and a sharp pain shot through her hand as blood began to flow into the tube.
Wendy winced and let out a small gasp of pain, immediately sitting back down.
John frowned, his brows furrowing in disapproval.
Mrs. Smith, noticing Wendy's distress, felt an instant surge of sympathy. She turned to her son and said softly,"John, why don't you stay and keep the young lady company? She seems so pitiful, all alone here and sick."
John had no intention of staying. But under his mother's earnest gaze, he found himself nodding, much to his own surprise.
Wendy, on the other hand, didn't even have a chance to refuse.
After escorting his mother to the car, John stood by while she settled into her seat. The family driver had been waiting. Mrs. Smith couldn't help but bring it up again before she left.
"John, that Miss Lawson seems like a nice girl. In a couple of years, you'll be old enough to settle down. If you find someone suitable, why not consider it?"
John chuckled softly, his hands stuffed in his pockets. If only his mother knew Wendy Lawson was Owen Brown's ex-girlfriend, she probably wouldn't be so enthusiastic about her.
He made a few casual remarks to placate his mother, who could only sigh inwardly. She couldn't push him any harder.
John returned to the infusion room. Wendy was sitting there, lost in thought. He couldn't deny that he found her body attractive, especially those long, slender legs of hers—just the thought of them made his fingers twitch. But that's where it ended for him.
He didn't want to get involved in her life. He only wanted her body.
Sitting down beside her, his voice was cold as he asked, "How many more bags do you have left?"
Wendy blinked, surprised he had actually returned. Not wanting to offend him, she replied quietly,"Just one more."
John didn't say anything else. He pulled out his phone and began dealing with work.
With nothing else to say, Wendy fell silent, eventually drifting off into sleep again. In her half-awake state, she vaguely heard John talking to a nurse, and at some point, a warm jacket was draped over her legs, covering them snugly.