He Ignored My Poison, I Let Him Grieve

Chapter 2

Rogers' frame trembled slightly. He stared at me in utter disbelief, then let out a cold scoff.

"Sarah, you’re really going to divorce me just because I had other things to take care of and couldn’t give you the antidote this time? You’re even willing to give up the antidote entirely? Can’t you act like an adult for once? Quit throwing these stupid little tantrums."

It wasn’t that I didn’t want the antidote. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to live. It was just… it was already too late.

Rogers heaved a heavy sigh, his eyes flicking over my face, which had gone unnervingly pale. His voice softened a little, "Relax, okay? Next month. I swear I’ll give you the antidote next month. I’ve already gotten everything sorted out, there won’t be any more delays this time."

I let out a bitter laugh. Next month was impossible. I wouldn’t even make it to next week at this rate.

The rich aroma of chicken drifted through the air, and I swallowed hard, my dry throat clicking uncomfortably. I craved it more than anything, but I couldn’t swallow solid food anymore. All I could do was drag out each day by clinging to an IV drip of nutrients.

"Rogers, have you ever actually read my medical file?"

Rogers clearly hadn’t expected me to suddenly ask that. Guilt flickered across his face instantly.

For the past few years, he’d thrown himself entirely into his career. The only thing that ever pulled his attention away from work was Amira.

In Rogers’ eyes, my slow poisoning was barely even worth mentioning, probably just another trivial nuisance.

"I… okay, I haven’t read it, but I’ve had Amira check in on your condition this whole time. You’re fine. Stop holding this over me. It’s just a tiny little poison, nothing serious. I have far more important things to focus on right now."

A cold smirk tugged at the corner of my mouth.

I tried to push myself up to reach the drawer, but my limbs had gone completely stiff and numb. I strained over and over, and couldn’t move an inch.

Rogers stared blankly at my clumsy, futile struggles. His brows drew tight, a confused look on his face… and then he barked a humorless laugh.

"How long are you going to keep up with this stupid little act? You’re faking how bad the poisoning is just to make me feel bad and guilty, right? Amira updates me on your symptoms every few days! You’re perfectly fine!"

Rogers wrenched the drawer open, snatched the medical file that was lying inside, and flipped through it page after page.

Spread across every line was a clear, unignorable record of the agony I’d endured.

But he just kept shaking his head as he read.

"Sarah, you even faked this medical record this well? You really put a lot of effort into this little act, didn't you?"

My chest tightened. I tried to speak, to explain, but the dry, itchy burning in my throat choked the words right back down.

I stared at Rogers. His features hadn't changed one bit, not a single line.

So why does he feel like a total stranger to me now?

Once upon a time, Rogers would have cradled me in the palm of his hand. He would have moved heaven and earth just to make me smile.

If I said one, he'd never say two. No matter how ridiculous my words were, he'd believe me without a single question.

But everything changed the second Amira Anderson walked into our lives.

Research in toxicology is dry and grueling work, and the bright, bubbly Amira was like a flash of warm sunlight.

She cut right through the gray and lit up Rogers Lake's whole world.

He told me Amira was the most talented student he'd ever met, a young girl who worked harder than most guys.

She was one of a kind, he said.

So one of a kind, that now Rogers believed every word that came out of her mouth, even when the truth was staring him right in the face.

Whatever. It doesn't matter anymore. What's done is done. There's no going back now.

I just wonder... when Rogers finally realizes that my poison has already taken full effect, will he still think this was just another one of my silly attention-seeking tricks?