Isabella opened her eyes to find Ethan at her bedside.

His face was etched with deep concern.

He gently offered her a glass of water and medication.

“This is your own body. You must treat it with more care.”

His tone had been calm back then, but the words were permanently engraved in her memory.

They had motivated her to prioritize her health, to eat regularly no matter how busy she was.

Now, those same words felt like shards of glass, cutting deep into an old wound.

Ethan watched Isabella.

She was staring blankly at the floor, completely lost in her thoughts.

Minutes passed without a single shift in her expression.

His brows furrowed.

Concern slowly gave way to irritation.

Just as he was about to speak, she suddenly jolted forward.

She grabbed the bowl and hastily spooned clam chowder into her mouth.

The intense seafood flavor immediately overwhelmed her senses.

It was far too strong for her current state.

Her face twisted in disgust.

Her stomach violently rejected the taste.

She quickly set the bowl aside.

She brushed past him, hopping on one foot as she rushed toward the bathroom.

She gripped the toilet seat tightly.

She bent over and vomited until there was nothing left.

Ethan lingered in the doorway.

His initial annoyance faded into a shadow of worry as he watched her trembling form.

He stepped closer.

He tentatively reached out a hand to comfort her.

But she slapped it away with a weak yet determined gesture.

“Isabella…”

“Don’t touch me!” Her voice was ragged and strained from retching.

Ethan froze.

His hand remained suspended in the air.

His features clouded with a mix of hurt and confusion.

“Let me take you to the hospital,” he said hastily.

“No!” Her refusal was sharp and instinctive.

She braced herself against the cool bathroom wall.

Her arms wrapped protectively around her abdomen.

Her eyes, filled with fear and defiance, locked onto his.

The air between them grew thick with unspoken tension.

Ethan’s suspicions resurfaced.

The idea that she might be hiding a pregnancy gnawed at him.

His eyes narrowed.

The weight of his fears and frustrations made his next words heavy and resolute.

“You don’t get to decide this time!”

His voice was unyielding, leaving no room for protest.

Just as he moved to scoop her up, his phone erupted in a jarring ring.

The name “Sophia” flashed urgently across the screen.

Without hesitation, Ethan answered.

Sophia’s voice, soft and frail, seeped through the receiver.

“Ethan… My heart feels strange… I think my old condition is acting up again. Can you come get me? I need to go to the hospital.” There was a soft, nasal sweetness to her voice, making it hard to ignore her plea.

Ethan’s eyes darted toward Isabella.

She sat curled up in the corner.

Her posture reminded him of a vulnerable kitten, deprived of safety.

Her arms were wrapped tightly around herself.

Her pale face, thin pressed lips, and eyes brimming with unease painted a picture of deep vulnerability.

It was a sight that could soften the hardest heart.

A wave of discomfort washed over Ethan.

His grip on the phone tightened.

He found himself caught in a moment of deep hesitation, torn between two urgent calls for his attention.

Sophia’s voice, threaded with fragility, broke the silence once more.

It was followed by two soft coughs.

“Well, if it’s too much trouble, that’s alright. It’s quite late. I can wait until tomorrow to see a doctor. It’s not that urgent.” Her words were polite but carried an unspoken accusation of neglect, wrapped in quiet endurance.

Ethan felt an invisible fist clench around his heart.

His earlier hesitation vanished instantly.

“I’ll be right there,” he declared, his voice firm and leaving no room for doubt.