She glanced into the hospital room. The bed was a mess, evidence of a recent intense struggle. Young people just don’t know moderation. If only Phoebe could get pregnant with a grandchild for the Reynolds family.
*
Down at the hospital’s entrance, Theodore caught up to Phoebe and pulled her into his car, speeding towards the apartment.
Restlessly scrolling through her phone, Phoebe sat in the passenger seat.
Theodore, driving, glanced at her occasionally. “How did you and Vanessa end up falling off the second-floor balcony the other day?” Phoebe paused her scrolling. “I thought you wouldn’t ask.”
Theodore frowned, “How could I not ask about something that serious?”
Turning to look at him, after a few seconds of silence, Phoebe took a gamble, “If I said Miss Fitzroy pulled me down, would you believe me?” “She can’t swim; she wouldn’t do that,” Theodore replied without hesitation. “Don’t try to pin this on her, Phoebe.”
Phoebe felt a sharp twinge in her heart.
See, she knew it was humiliating to even suggest.
Staring at the asphalt road shimmering in the sunlight, she spoke with difficulty, “I can’t swim either… and I don’t like you. I had no reason to push her.” The car screeched to a halt in the middle of the road.
Propelled forward by inertia, Phoebe was then yanked back by the seatbelt, leaving her dazed, “What are you doing? Don’t you know that’s dangerous?” The car behind them almost slammed into their fancy ride, its driver sweating bullets. Swerving around them and passing by, the driver cursed furiously. Theodore’s glare sent a shiver through the man, who quickly drove off.
He steered the car back onto the road, his expression growing dark. Through clenched teeth, he said, “You don’t like a man like me? Are you blind?” Phoebe closed her eyes, replying, “Yes, I’m blind and foolish.”
Theodore fell silent.
He dropped Phoebe at her apartment building and, without waiting for her to go inside, drove off, leaving her in a cloud of exhaust.
Phoebe didn’t mind; dragging her weary body back to her apartment, the first thing she did was take a shower, washing away every trace of Theodore from her skin. She felt disgraced.
Despite loathing him for choosing to save Vanessa first that day, leaving her alone by the lake, her soul trembled with shame when he kissed her.
After her shower, she cooked herself a bowl of noodles and watched some celebrity gossip while eating.
Phoebe perked up upon learning that the artist she auditioned for the talent show had made it through with flying colors, securing an A rating for the first episode and getting into the top class.
She whipped out her phone and called John. “Keep a close eye on Noah Myersarlton’s performance on the show, see how he measures up. I’ll discuss it with the production team when I get back to the office.”
She was aware that talent shows weren’t without their behind-the-scenes manipulations. If Noah had enough talent, she wouldn’t mind giving him a nudge to help him shine brighter.
With the call ended, she was so tired she didn’t want to move a finger and decided to head to bed.
In the middle of the night, she felt as if a mountain was pressing down on her, making it hard to breathe, the air thick with the scent of alcohol.
Frowning, she opened her eyes to find an arm draped across her waist, unmovable, only hugging her tighter when she tried to push it away. “Stop it, let’s just sleep,” she murmured.