The Officer's Runaway Wife & Secret Son novel Chapter 25

She took out her phone and found the trending topic.

A wave of palpitations hit her, and her stomach cramped in pain.

It was the third day, yet the popularity was still climbing. With every "so sweet" and "perfect match" in the comments, the spasms in Clara's stomach worsened.

She held onto the wall, trembling as she stood up. Before she could straighten up, her legs went soft.

Clara gritted her teeth, pushed open the door from the stairwell, and took a taxi directly to the nearest hospital.

Staying alive was much more important than being heartbroken.

Emergency Gastroenterology.

The attending physician was a female director who looked like she was in the thick of menopause. She immediately scolded Clara.

"You're young; don't you want your stomach anymore?"

The doctor typed furiously on her keyboard:

"Stress gastritis. Your stress levels are too high, and your schedule is irregular. Keep torturing yourself like this, and you'll get a perforated ulcer. You might as well go check into the inpatient ward right now."

Clara was actually quite intimidated by doctors. Sitting on the hard stool in the consulting room, she didn't dare lift her head while being scolded, mumbling softly:

"Doctor, I'll change. I'll definitely change."

"Change what? You young people, you never change."

Although the doctor had a sharp tongue, her hands didn't stop moving as she quickly wrote out orders.

Glancing at Clara's hand pressing against her stomach and the simple band on her ring finger, she scoffed:

"I'm prescribing some acid suppressants. Take your medicine on time for the next few days, eat a bland diet, and pay attention to your mood. You're married, right? Don't let your husband piss you off."

She slapped the prescription down in front of Clara, her tone certain:

"Remember this, girl. Men are the source of migraines and stomach ulcers. If you want to live a few more years, get your mindset right."

Clara almost knelt down to the old lady.

She was a miracle doctor. Even Hippocrates would have to call her teacher.

Wasn't it exactly a man who pissed her off?

She pulled the corners of her mouth into a smile that was uglier than crying. "Okay. Thank you, Doctor."

Clara's fingers tightened around the prescription slip.

She instinctively turned sideways, hiding behind a structural column.

The heartache overshadowed the stomach pain.

Rhys got the medicine, carrying a thermal bag in his hand. Judging by the packaging, it was from Sunny Diner, a place near the hospital that was hard to buy from.

He walked over to Margot and squatted down.

The Captain Huntington who would never bend for anyone in front of Clara was kneeling on one knee, his eyes level with the woman in the chair.

He opened the thermal bag, took out a bottle of water, twisted off the cap, and held it to Margot's lips.

Margot didn't take it; she just drank a sip from his hand, tilting her head back to smile softly at him, her eyes curving.

Clara could see the look in Rhys's eyes.

No impatience, no coldness, only indulgence.

He reached out to help Margot adjust her mask, stood up, and naturally offered one of his coat pockets.