At some point, Gianna drifted into unconsciousness. When she was half-awake, she had a dream. She dreamed of middle school, the time when her article was published in a medical journal.
Excited, she had brought the magazine home, eager to share it. But no one in her family understood it. They glanced at it briefly before tossing it aside.
Only her mother, Naomi Goodwin, had read it carefully. Finally, she stroked Gianna's head with loving eyes and praised her.
Curious, Gianna had asked, "Mom, do you understand medical journals?"
Noami had shaken her head, yet her voice was as gentle as the first spring water as she said, "I don't understand what you wrote, but I recognize your name at the top."
The moment from that afternoon stayed with her for a long, long time. Now, her articles had appeared in major journals over and over again. But the one who used to stroke her head and praise her was gone.
"Mom..."
When Gianna woke up, traces of dried tears clung to the corners of her eyes.
The first thing she saw was a young man with a worried expression. This young man was Adam Holt, a junior of hers who was currently interning at the hospital.
"Gianna, don't you think your family members are too cruel? The paramedics told me you were on the brink of death, and they were still having dinner, completely ignoring you."
"You've been unconscious for two days, and not a single person came to check on you."
Gianna remained expressionless as she listened to his angry accusations. Her complete lack of reaction made Adam's heart ache. No grief was greater than a heart that had turned cold. This must be what that felt like.
"Gianna, I bought you some soup. Try to eat a little."
Before Gianna could refuse, Adam had already scooped up a spoonful of chicken noodle soup and brought it to her lips.
In an instant, blood began pouring down. A sharp wave of pain immediately made her shudder.
Even so, Ezra never spared her a single glance. His dark eyes remained locked onto Adam as he coldly commanded, "Get out."
His tone was as if Gianna were nothing more than his possession—something no one else was allowed to touch. But just then, his phone rang. His expression changed drastically the moment he answered it.
"Maya is blaming herself a lot for what happened to you. Her depression acted up, and she attempted suicide by overdosing on pills. I need to go be with her while they pump her stomach. I'll check on you later, okay?"
There wasn't a trace of hesitation in his voice. It wasn't a question. He was simply notifying her that he was leaving.
Gianna clutched her bleeding arm, staring at his indifferent face. Then, she let out a bitter, hollow laugh while saying, "Sure."
What was there to be sad about? In just eight days, Ezra didn't have to put on this act anymore.

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