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The memories came to an abrupt halt. Luke seemed oblivious to the pallor on my face. casually reminding me,“If there’s nothing going on, you should head back. After all, you’re a military family member; be considerate and don’t hog the medical resources, don’t hog the hospital
resources.”
I nodded. “Alright.”
He continued, “For the next few days, I’ll be with Clara for the next few days. so don’t come Nooking for me unless it’s necessary,”
I nodded again.
Perhaps my reaction was too subdued, as Luke paused for a moment, taken aback. He released his hold on Clara and stepped closer, “Are…are you feeling alright?”
“Once Clara’s emotions stabilize a bit, I’ll accompany you for a proper check–up.” he said. I murmured in agreement, pretending not to notice the envious glare from Clara. In that fleeting moment as we brushed past each other, I caught a whiff of Luke’s scent–a faint fragrance of jasmine. It was the same hair oil that Clare often used. During these days in the hospital, he must have held her close quite a bit, or else how could his clothes carry her scent? Upon returning home, I ran into Mrs. Johnson, my neighbor, she was stepping out.. She was startled to see my pale complexion. “Vivian, sweetheart, what’s wrong? Why do you look so pale?” I forced a smile, but my eyes betrayed me, welling up with tears. It turned out my appearance was indeed alarming. Others could see that something was off with me. But why couldn’t Luke notice. It had been seven days; even a single word of concern would have sufficed. Seeing my silence, Mrs. Johnson stopped probing and carefully helped me back inside to sit down. Later, she brought a large bowl of chicken soup. “Vivian, you’re already weak, and now you’re pregnant; you need to nourish yourself.” Mrs. Johnson’s husband was in the military too, but they had many children, and their allowances barely covered their needs. After thanking her, I sat at the dining table, lost in thought for a long time. I couldn’t understand why even the neighbors showed such concern for me, yet my husband could repeatedly disregard me. This marriage felt utterly ridiculous.
With a sigh, I cherished the bowl of soup, bringing it to my lips. Just as I was about to take a sip, the courtyard door swung open. “Vivian, I’m back.” Luke said, holding some clothes. I looked at him, puzzled. “Why are you back? Aren’t you with Clara?”
He set down the clothes and casually replied, “The doctor said Clara’s condition isn’t serious, but I’m still worried. She’s staying a few more days. So I came back to grab some essentials.” I nodded, but my mind couldn’t help but replay his words from earlier that morning: “If there’s nothing going on, you should head back. After all, you’re a military family member; be considerate and don’t hog the medical resources, don’t hog the hospital resources.” It seemed that as long as it was about Clara, everything changed.
Perhaps I was truly numb; I didn’t even have the strength to argue. Lowering my gaze, I was about to continue drinking the soup when Luke suddenly spoke up, “Did you make chicken soup?” “Don’t drink it. Clara is so weak and this is perfect for her to regain her strength.”
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