2#02

2

When I declined, Maxton's expression contorted with contempt. "Still playing innocent? You guzzled two bottles without a care when you had that stomach issue three years ago. How can you expect me to believe you now?"

His mocking tone sparked the dormant rage within me. I broke free from the inebriated man's hold, blinded by fury as I strode towards Maxton. Without hesitation, I struck him with all my might and turned to exit.

Nestled in Maxton's embrace, Priscilla gazed at me with feigned naivety. "Maxton, Solana claims she's unwell. If she truly can't drink, I'll do it instead. I can always get an IV at the hospital later," she whimpered softly.

Maxton's grasp on my wrist intensified painfully, his eyes cold and unforgiving. "Compare yourself to Priscilla," he sneered. "It's just alcohol. Is it going to end you?"

His words stung more than his harsh grip, which had left my wrist reddened. My struggles only seemed to entertain him further. "Solana, I'm doing you a favor here. Do you still think you're some paragon of virtue? You've already lost one child; who else would want you, you worthless wretch? Be sensible and drink for Priscilla. You know I still have use for you."

Noticing Maxton's rage, Priscilla clung to his hand with quivering fingers. "Maxton, please don't be cross. Solana might still harbor resentment towards me. It's my fault for being inconsiderate. If you're upset, blame me for being incompetent and failing to assist you," she murmured, eyes brimming with tears.

As her weeping intensified, Maxton released my wrist and turned to console her, his previous anger dissolving into concern.

The other men at the table, sensing the escalating tension, quickly pulled Maxton back to his seat.

Seizing the opportunity, I pushed the door open and stepped out without a backward glance.

"She seems genuinely upset. Aren't you going to comfort her?" one of them jested.

Maxton's voice, laced with disdain, followed me out. "No need. Mark my words, she'll come crawling back like a mutt, pleading for forgiveness."

His words pierced me like a blade, my fists clenching so tightly that my nails dug into my palms. The ache in my chest intensified, shattering the last fragile remnants of affection I held for him.

But Maxton was mistaken this time. He would never witness me return—not now, not ever.

En route home in a cab, my stomach twisted in agony, cold perspiration trickling down my spine.

"Miss, are you alright? Should I take you to a medical facility?" the driver inquired, his concerned gaze catching my ashen reflection in the mirror.

I feebly shook my head, forcing a faint smile. "No, it's fine. Just take me to the address I provided."

Before I could utter another word, I was engulfed by darkness.

When I regained consciousness, I found myself surrounded by the clinical white walls of a hospital. The driver stood anxiously by my bedside, concern etched across his features.

As I opened my eyes, the man exhaled in relief, his tense posture relaxing. "Young lady, if you were feeling unwell, you should have sought medical attention earlier. You gave me quite a fright. Fortunately, it was just a false alarm. I've bought you some porridge and settled the fees."

After explaining everything, he rose to leave.

My gaze fell on the steaming bowl of porridge on the table, and tears began to stream down my face uncontrollably.

From the moment of that unplanned termination until now, the first glimmer of compassion I received came from a stranger.

Just as warmth began to seep into the fissures in my heart, my phone vibrated. The screen illuminated with Maxton's name.

Without hesitation, I powered it off, refusing to answer as I once would have.

I remained motionless in bed for what seemed like an eternity, gathering the strength to finally drag myself to the doctor's office.

"Solana, you've just undergone a termination," Dr. Huxley stated, his voice calm but authoritative as he reviewed my records. "You can't allow your emotions to spiral like this. It's fortunate you came in time today; any further delay could have been life-threatening."

His words hung in the air, heavy with concern, as I quietly requested to be discharged.

Dr. Huxley's eyebrows arched in surprise, though his tone remained steady. "Are you certain you want to leave? Given your condition, I strongly recommend staying for further observation."

But my determination didn't waver. Seeing my resolve, he exhaled sharply, the lines on his forehead deepening. "Very well," he conceded, though his disapproval was evident.

"Solana, where are your family members? They need to come in."