Chapter 3

A few days later, Ava woke up shivering, her head pounding.

A raging fever.

She called Ethan, her voice weak. "Ethan, I'm really sick. I think I need to go to the doctor."

To his credit, he sounded concerned. "Okay, babe, I'll take you. ER?"

"Yes, please."

At the emergency room, the wait was long. Ava leaned against Ethan, feeling miserable.

He held her hand, stroked her hair. For a moment, a tiny, foolish part of her hoped.

Maybe she' d overreacted. Maybe it wasn' t as bad as it seemed.

Then, a familiar voice. "Ethan? Oh my god, Ethan!"

Chloe.

She rushed over, her face etched with panic.

"Ethan, I burned myself! It was so stupid, a cooking mishap. My hand really hurts."

She held up her hand. A small red mark on her palm, barely a blister.

Ethan instantly let go of Ava' s hand.

"Chloe! What happened? Let me see."

He was all concern, his voice soft, his attention completely on Chloe.

He examined her hand with an exaggerated gentleness.

"Oh, you poor thing. Does it hurt a lot? We need to get a doctor to look at this right away."

Ava watched, a cold clarity washing over her.

Her fever was 103. She could barely sit up.

Chloe had a tiny burn.

Ethan was already flagging down a nurse, his voice urgent. "Excuse me, my friend here needs immediate attention. She burned her hand."

He didn't even glance back at Ava.

A nurse eventually called Ava' s name.

Ethan was still with Chloe, listening intently as she described her "ordeal" with the frying pan.

Ava walked towards the examination room alone.

The doctor confirmed a severe flu, prescribed medication, and advised rest.

When Ava came out, Ethan was sitting with Chloe in the waiting area, Chloe' s head resting on his shoulder.

He looked up, a flicker of something – guilt? – in his eyes.

"Hey, you okay? What did they say?"

"I'm fine," Ava said, her voice flat. "I can take a cab home."

"No, no, I'll take you. Chloe, you gonna be alright here?"

Chloe looked up, her eyes wide and innocent. "Oh, I think so. Don't worry about me."

The drive home was silent.

Ethan kept trying to make small talk, his cheerfulness forced.

Ava just looked out the window.

He was acting as if nothing truly significant had happened, as if her deep emotional wound didn't exist, only her physical ailment which he'd momentarily forgotten.

His obliviousness was a special kind of cruelty.