My Reborn Admirer Wins Over My Heart (Oriana) novel Chapter 209

**Chapter 209: Whispers in the Ward**

“This cologne, the one from Chanel that I bought for him—he only used it once. He claimed the scent was overpowering and just left it there, collecting dust. I remember when I sold it; it was almost at the one-fifth mark. And this one?” Oriana gestured toward another bottle, her voice tinged with disbelief. “Looks like he barely touched it, maybe just once or twice.”

Zara leaned in, scrutinizing the bottle with an intensity that could ignite a fire. “And this scarf… I knitted it with my own hands during finals week. It’s black and gray, but the yarn had such a rich hue that it looked a bit brownish under certain lights. But this one he has…” Zara’s voice rose, her frustration boiling over. “This is basically just black! Ugh, typical! A scumbag never changes. He bought a bunch of cheap knockoffs just to mess with your head and pretend he was sentimental!”

The anger in Zara’s eyes blazed fiercely. “I bet he’s still at his apartment. I swear, I’m going to beat the crap out of him!”

Oriana gently pulled Zara back, her expression calm amidst the storm. “Zara, don’t waste your energy on him. He’s not worth it.”

“Are you serious? After everything he’s done to you? He hurt you over and over again! I can’t just stand by and let this happen!” Zara’s eyes were practically shooting sparks, her fists clenched in indignation.

Oriana offered a soft smile, her heart surprisingly light. “Honestly, I’m not even upset.”

“Come on, Oriana, don’t try to comfort me. You’re clearly not over it; you remember every single detail…” Zara’s voice softened, concern creeping into her tone.

“Because those were things I gave him with all my heart,” Oriana replied, her gaze drifting to the items scattered around. “I remember them because they mattered to me. They’re part of my memories. They weren’t worthless, not to me.”

With a sigh, Oriana continued, “Grant Holloway was probably set up in all this. If he truly valued my gifts, he wouldn’t have displayed them so carelessly for me to recognize. That was such an amateur mistake. It just shows he didn’t keep those things because he cherished them; he probably tossed them aside and forgot about them.”

“Idiot. Then why even bring them back? Was he just putting on a show for you?” Zara huffed, crossing her arms.

“Maybe he wanted to feel sorry for himself, to act like he was still some deeply emotional guy,” Oriana mused, shaking her head in confusion.

“Straight-up trash!” Zara spat, her teeth grinding together in frustration. Then, a smug grin broke across her face. “Hehe, and Luna thought she struck gold—turns out she just picked up a pile of garbage.”

Oriana felt a wave of relief wash over her. After finally blocking and deleting Grant from her life, she turned to Zara, tugging her arm playfully. “Let’s stop being mad. How about I treat you to some ice cream?”

Zara’s expression softened, a hint of a smile creeping in. “Hmph. Well, since you’re trying so hard to win me over, I suppose I’ll accept.”

“Thank you, Zara,” Oriana replied, her heart warming at the prospect of their outing.

The two friends spent the entire day indulging in Zara’s boundless energy, with Oriana’s step count soaring past twenty thousand. By the time they returned to the Radcliffe house, utterly drained, Oriana grabbed her pajamas and headed straight for the bathroom.

“Wait, no, it’s not lagging. I saw your Adam’s apple move—are you thirsty or something?”

Finally, Micah managed to regain his composure, his breath coming out hot and heavy. He parted his lips to respond, his voice rough and low, almost unrecognizable, like a man lost in the desert stumbling across an oasis.

“Yeah… I’m thirsty.”

Even through the phone, Oriana sensed something was off. She leaned in closer to the screen, instinctively worried. “Why does your voice sound strange too? Are you sick? Wait, are you not at home? Where are you?”

Oriana’s keen eyes noticed that the background wall behind him was not from his apartment.

Her concerned voice snapped Micah back to reality, and the heat in his body slowly faded. He instinctively tried to block the background with his shoulder, but under Oriana’s probing questions, he finally relented.

“I’m fine. Just the flu,” he said, though the truth was far more complicated.

In reality, Micah was at the hospital. Earlier that afternoon, a specialist had spoken with him and recommended a more in-depth diagnostic procedure. He would be going under anesthesia for it the following day.