Bound To The Broken Alpha (Amy and Daniel) novel Chapter 66

**When Dawn Breaks Slowly Hope Finds Space To Grow by Jin Rowan**
**Chapter 66: A Thorn In My Flesh**

**MARK**

Clara was starting to feel like a persistent thorn embedded deep within my flesh, her endless cycle of dramatic fainting spells gnawing at my patience. The air in the doctor’s office was thick with the stale scent of old coffee, a scent I had grown all too familiar with over the past few months. Yet, this particular visit felt distinctly different. Clara was due for another evaluation, but when the doctor entered, his weary expression made me pause. He appeared drained, almost hesitant, as if he were carrying a weight too heavy to bear.

“She’s stable,” he stated, flipping through her medical file with a practiced hand. “However, some of the symptoms she reported don’t align with our observations.”

“What does that mean?” I pressed, a knot tightening in my stomach.

He hesitated, his brow furrowing as he pondered his words. “It could be stress… or perhaps exaggeration. We can’t say for certain.”

Exaggeration. The word echoed in my mind, a bitter taste that lingered long after I left the office. Clara was waiting for me in the car, her demeanor fragile as ever. She wore just a hint of makeup, her hair a chaotic mess, and her hands trembled slightly—a convincing façade, one I had seen too many times before.

“How did it go?” she asked, her voice low and shaky, as if she were afraid to hear the answer.

“The doctor said you’re fine,” I replied, trying to keep my tone neutral.

She managed a weak smile, one that barely reached her eyes. “That’s good, right?”

I studied her closely, searching for a glimmer of authenticity in her expression. “He also mentioned that your test results don’t match what you’ve been telling them.”

Her smile vanished, replaced by a flicker of hurt. “So, you think I’m lying now?” she retorted, her voice rising defensively.

“That’s not what I said,” I replied, frustrated.

“You didn’t have to,” she snapped, turning her gaze to the window, shutting me out.

Later that night, I heard her call from the bedroom, her voice laced with distress as she claimed to feel dizzy. I hurried in to find her standing perfectly still, one hand pressed against her forehead, her eyes wide with a mixture of fear and anticipation. “I think I’m going to faint,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

I stepped forward instinctively, but she remained stationary, her gaze fixed on me, waiting for my reaction. I halted midway, realizing she was gauging my response. When I didn’t rush to her side, she blinked slowly and lowered herself onto the bed.

“Are you going to just stand there?” she asked, her tone sharp.

I sighed, rubbing the back of my neck, a gesture born from frustration and helplessness. “Clara, I’m trying to help you, but I need to understand what’s really happening.”

“What’s happening,” she shot back, her voice edged with bitterness, “is that I’m sick and you don’t believe me.”

Her voice cracked just as it always did, and she covered her face with her hands, tears spilling forth. Each sob tugged at the strings of guilt that had been woven into the fabric of our relationship. No matter how many times she manipulated a situation, the sound of her crying always left me feeling weak and helpless.

I sat beside her, the weight of the moment pressing down on us. “I’m not saying I don’t believe you. I just want to get to the bottom of this.”

She leaned into me, her sobs growing more intense. “You’re all I have, Mark. Everyone else thinks I’m crazy. You can’t leave me too.”

I fell silent, allowing her to cry on my shoulder, feeling lost in a sea of uncertainty. I didn’t know what to believe anymore.

The following weekend, we found ourselves at yet another charity event, surrounded by the usual crowd. Clara appeared to be in perfect health as we arrived, laughing and posing for pictures, her smile radiant and seemingly carefree. But halfway through the evening, I noticed her eyes darting toward Amy, who stood confidently at the center of the room, engaged in conversation with a small group of reporters. Amy exuded composure and strength, drawing the attention of everyone around her, even those who had once whispered behind her back.

VERIFYCAPTCHA_LABELVerify