“Klein, did you get into an accident? Are you okay? Where are you? Are you at the hospital?” she fired off her questions in rapid succession, her worry palpable.
The barrage of inquiries warmed Klein’s heart, a soft sensation blooming within him.
It felt light, almost like a feather brushing against his chest.
He cleared his throat, his voice coming out softer than he intended. “I’m fine. Just a minor injury. Nothing serious.”
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Whitney’s voice was laced with genuine concern. “Do you need me to come over?”
If Klein had indeed gotten into an accident after dropping her off, she couldn’t shake the feeling of responsibility that weighed heavily on her.
Klein couldn’t suppress the smile creeping onto his face. “I’m fine, just a minor injury. But if you’re up for it, I could really use some soup tomorrow. My housekeeper’s off, and the doctor said I should stick to light meals.”
“Okay, I’ll bring you some tomorrow morning.”
Klein’s mind raced, strategizing. “No need to rush over that early. Evening works better-just bring it when you get off work.”
“Alright, I’ll leave work early then.”
As soon as Whitney hung up, Klein called his household staff without hesitation. “Take tomorrow off, no need to come in. Yeah, the whole day. Why? No particular reason-let’s just say I’m in a good mood.”
Carter felt a sudden stiffness in his body as he caught sight of Emily making her way toward him.
He had intended to seek out Whitney, but now a wave of guilt washed over him, clawing at his insides for reasons he couldn’t fully articulate.
Emily halted a few steps away, her gaze scanning him for any signs of distress. Once she was satisfied he seemed unharmed, the barrage of questions began. “Carter, were you planning to head to Pine Street to see Whitney? You mentioned you were working late at the office.”
Carter bristled at the tone of her voice, which carried an unmistakable edge of accusation.
“Emily, what’s with the inquisition? I was merely passing through. Who said anything about me going to see her?” He fired back defensively, feeling cornered. “Are you going to start doubting me too, just like she does?”
Emily bit down on her lip, her cheeks flushing a deep crimson before paling. “I didn’t.”
“Then what was all that questioning about?”
Feeling wronged, Emily’s eyes began to shimmer with unshed tears. “Carter, I’m just scared you’re going to leave me.”
Carter’s heart softened at the sight of her pitiful expression, and he let out a quiet sigh, trying to dismiss the tension. “Don’t be ridiculous. Stop crying. We’re getting married next month.”
He spoke the words to comfort her, but they felt like a reminder to himself as well.
Next month, he would be married. After that, he and Whitney would be nothing more than strangers.
Emily’s tears began to slow, and she nodded, her expression shifting slightly. “Okay. I was just scared. Carter, I promise I won’t overthink things anymore. Just love me a little more, okay?”
“Sure.” Yet, Carter’s mind was miles away, lost in thoughts he couldn’t voice.
Emily felt that familiar ache tightening in her chest. *Even after I said all that, he still won’t say he loves me,* she thought, a wave of sadness washing over her.
They sat in the hospital, each ensnared in their own thoughts, the silence stretching between them like an unbridgeable chasm.
*****
The dawn of the next day arrived-the day Whitney had dedicated to honoring Patricia’s memory.
Whitney was acutely aware that she’d need to bring Klein his soup later that evening, so she left the law firm promptly at three in the afternoon, making her way back to Moore Manor with a sense of purpose.
She was determined to handle everything personally.
After a trip to the grocery store, she busied herself in the kitchen, cooking several dishes from scratch, pouring her heart into every stir and simmer. Just as she plated the last dish, Samuel walked through the door, his surprise evident.
“Whitney, you’re home too?” he exclaimed, his eyebrows raised in genuine astonishment.
Whitney’s eyes dimmed slightly at his arrival. “Dad, we agreed to remember Grandma together today.”
Samuel’s expression stiffened momentarily, as if the weight of her words struck him. “Haha, I’ve been so busy I completely forgot. You should’ve reminded me earlier, sweetheart. What if I’d had a business dinner tonight? I would’ve missed it entirely.”
“Then you would’ve missed it,” Whitney replied quietly, a hint of disappointment lacing her words. “It wouldn’t be the first thing you’ve missed.”
“What kind of way is that to talk to your father?” Samuel paused, then his tone shifted, becoming more eager. “Actually, Whitney, I’ve been meaning to ask you-is this you and Klein in this photo?” He held up his phone, anticipation etched across his face.
Whitney glanced at the screen, surprise jolting through her. “Who sent you that? Are you having me followed?”
“What are you talking about, sweetheart? Why would I waste resources tracking my own daughter? Tina sent it to me. She saw you two while she was out shopping yesterday.”
Of course, Samuel conveniently omitted all the unkind remarks Tina had made about Whitney.
Not that he needed to spell it out; Whitney could easily imagine the unflattering things Tina had likely said.
“Tell me right now. Is this really Klein?” Samuel’s voice turned urgent, almost demanding.
Whitney met his searching gaze and nodded, her heart racing. “Yes, it is.”
Joy surged through Samuel, lifting his spirits momentarily.
“Dad, let’s get ready for dinner.”
After they finished their meal, Whitney glanced at the clock-six o’clock on the dot.
She headed to the kitchen and checked the pot on the stove. The soup had just finished simmering, and the timing couldn’t have been more perfect.
April wandered over, curiosity etched on her face. “Ms. Moore, are you planning to take this home?”
Whitney shook her head resolutely. “No, I’m not. April, could you find a thermal container for me? I need to take all of it with me.”
“Sure. I’ll grab it for you right away.”
Without wasting a moment, Whitney carefully packed up the fish soup and made her way to Klein’s villa.
As she pulled up to the gates, an unusual silence enveloped the place. Not a single staff member was in sight.
*So they really did take the day off,* she thought, a sense of unease creeping in.
Whitney pressed the doorbell, and a weak male voice drifted from inside. “Whit, you know the code. Just let yourself in. I can’t get up.”
*He sounds that sick?* she thought, worry tightening her chest. *Why did he come home? He should be in the hospital.*
With a quick punch of the code, she stepped through the front door. The first floor was deserted, so she slipped off her shoes, changed into cozy house slippers, and made her way upstairs. “Klein?”
“In here.” His voice was low and strained, barely above a whisper.
Whitney carried the thermal container down the hall and pushed open the bedroom door. Klein was propped up against the headboard, his complexion pale and drawn.
She asked, concern lacing her voice, “Klein, are you okay?”
Klein shook his head slowly, a weak smile attempting to break through his discomfort. “I’m fine. Just cold.”
Whitney set down the thermos, her manners forgotten in her concern. She perched herself on the edge of his bed, pressing the back of her hand against his forehead.
A frown creased her brow. “You’re burning up, Klein. You have a fever.”
Indeed, he was burning, but the fire within him was not just physical.
Klein licked his dry lips, his voice laced with sarcasm. “Really? So what happens now? Am I gonna die?”
Whitney froze for a moment, irritation flaring inside her. “Don’t say stuff like that,” she replied quickly, as if her words could ward off any misfortune.
*He must be delirious from the fever,* she thought, shaking her head at his absurdity. “Klein, you need to go to the hospital.”
New Book: Back Home to Marry Off Myself
Loredana’s father left the family for his mistress, leaving them to fend for themselves abroad. When life was at its toughest, her father showed up with “good news” after 8 years of absence: To marry off Loredana to a paralyzed son of the wealthy Mendelsohn family.