Escape from Mr. Whitman (Emma and Theodore) novel Chapter 347

Theodore: Send me your location!

Carlisle: Come and get me if you dare!

…

And so it went, an endless loop.

Emma could practically picture Theodore on the other end of the screen, pacing furiously as he typed, probably ready to throw his phone across the room. Honestly, wasn’t this exhausting? Didn’t he have anything better to do?

She scrolled back through his barrage of messages, feeling more and more convinced that he had way too much free time.

“So you’re really having a party tonight?”

“Is getting divorced such a thrill for you? Have you been waiting for this day all along?”

He even sent her photos.

“Look at yourself. Look how happy you are. Did you ever smile like that when you were with me?”

“No wonder you wanted the divorce so badly. You’d been planning this, hadn’t you?”

“It’s because of Remington, isn’t it? When did you two start sneaking around?”

“Was it the first time you brought up divorce? Or was it when he sent you those flowers?”

Emma rolled her eyes. He was completely ridiculous! Who did he think he was to interrogate her like this? As for the flowers—she couldn’t even remember that ever happening.

“We’re just friends,” she replied, not wanting to drag Sebastian into any unnecessary drama.

But that seemed to trigger something in Theodore. Suddenly, his texts came flooding in, line after line.

“Friends? Emma, you’re a married woman. What kind of ‘friend’ sends you flowers?”

“What kind of ‘friend’ invites you to travel for concerts?”

“What kind of ‘friend’ finds you doctors when you’re injured?”

When they arrived, Emma insisted her grandmother be seen first.

Her grandmother was frail, and Dr. Fletcher advised against any intensive treatments for now. He didn’t prescribe any medication, just suggested some gentle nutritional supplements and encouraged her to stay active.

Her grandmother just chuckled, looking at Emma and Larson. “See? I told you I’m fine. You two worry too much.”

How could they not worry?

Emma’s grandmother was the most important person in her life. As a child, it was her grandmother who took care of her; now, as an adult, it was Emma’s turn to cherish her, to make sure her later years were happy and healthy. How could Emma not be concerned about her health?

Afterward, Dr. Fletcher checked Emma’s foot.

He acknowledged that she’d made progress over the past month, but it was minimal—almost negligible. At this pace, it was impossible to say what her final recovery would look like.

Larson and her grandmother both looked downcast at the news.

Emma, on the other hand, just smiled. “It’s alright! I’ve gotten used to it. It doesn’t affect my life anymore. There’s more to life than dancing—I can still do plenty of other things.”