Divorce me I'm done serving you (Ayla) novel Chapter 711

Everything hit at once. It felt like her body just... quit.

Ayla had never imagined she'd be this much of a wreck in front of her ex. At least the floor was carpeted. The landing shouldn't hurt too badly. She'd just pick herself up.

A pair of hands caught her just before she hit the ground.

Her whole body had gone limp.

Draven frowned and pressed the back of his hand to her forehead again.

"Thanks," Ayla managed. "I don't think it's a fever. Just a cold. Let go, I can get to the bathroom myself."

Draven had never seen Ayla this fragile. His heart was in a vise. "You can barely stand. What if you collapse in there? I'm carrying you."

Ayla looked at him. "That's... not really appropriate."

Draven's voice was low, absolute. "Your health comes first."

Ayla shook her head, which only made the dizziness worse. Never shake your head during a blood sugar crash. Her palms were tingling. She genuinely couldn't make it to the bathroom alone.

"I think my blood sugar's low."

Draven watched her. She could barely stay upright, and she was still being this rational. Before, she wouldn't have pushed through like this. She would've clung to him and let herself be soft.

After the breakup, she'd carried everything alone.

Ayla's heart had grown harder than before.

The more she held herself together, the more it gutted him. The more it ate at him. The more he wanted to scream at himself. How could he have just walked away when she told him to? How had he been that much of a coward?

The ache was suffocating. He carried her to the bathroom, set her on the toilet, and positioned a small armrest beside her. "Hold onto this."

"Give me two minutes." His voice was low, brooking no argument.

Sick Ayla versus full-force CEO authority? She could only nod.

Draven left and returned in under two minutes, a set of pajamas in hand.

He grabbed the hand she'd been bracing against the wall. "Open up."

Ayla blinked at him, confused.

"Chocolate."

Ayla heard the word chocolate and gave him a friendly little smile. She opened her mouth. A chocolate truffle melted on her tongue, sweet flooding through her instantly.

In her current state, that tiny smile was almost heartbreaking to watch.

Draven's jaw tightened. Those cold, composed eyes went red. Loving someone this much and seeing them like this—so this was what real pain felt like.

A servant wheeled in a cart loaded with dishes—all nutritious, beautifully plated in fine porcelain. The servant set the food down and left without a word.

Draven picked up a small bowl. Chicken soup.

"Finished the chocolate?"

Ayla chewed quickly and swallowed. "Done."

"Open up."

Ayla looked at him. Objecting at this point was useless. He'd already changed her clothes.

She opened her mouth. Draven fed her patiently—soup, then bites of food—until she'd eaten about half. Then she stopped.

When the bowl was set down, Ayla noticed the doctor had been standing outside the bedroom door the entire time. Only now did he come in.

He asked about her symptoms and prescribed a light course of medication. Take it half an hour after eating.

Half an hour later.

Draven placed the pills in her mouth himself.

"The medicine will make you drowsy. Rest a little more, then wash up, and settle into bed properly, okay?" Draven was already planning a full physical for Ayla once she recovered.