She Posted My Delivery-Room Photo，He Said It Was Just a Joke

The anesthesia from my C-section hadn't even worn off when Adrian Cole walked into the room with Chloe Bennett, who he treated like a little sister. Chloe raised her phone and pointed the camera at me. "Adrian, look! Giving birth really does turn a woman into a wreck!" she said with a laugh. Then she turned the screen toward Adrian. He didn't stop her. Instead, he chuckled. "Better watch it, Chloe, or Natalie will come after you later." Chloe laughed even harder and shoved her phone in front of my face. On i********:, she'd just posted a photo of me still lying on the delivery table. The caption read: So this is the "goddess" Adrian defied his family to marry. Wonder if she's still worth it. The post had 72 likes. Unable to stand it any longer, a nurse stepped forward. "The patient needs to rest..." Adrian tried to smooth things over with a grin. "All right, Chloe. Delete the photo. Natalie is shy." Then he looked down at me, his voice gentle. "Honey, don't be mad. She's still a kid. She doesn't know any better." I glanced at the list of people who had liked the post. Adrian's profile was the first one there. My incision throbbed, but my heart had gone numb. This time, I didn't cry. ***** "Does your incision still hurt?" The nurse closed the hospital-room door, shutting out the noise. Adrian unscrewed the lid of a thermos, poured some warm water, and held it to my lips. "Chloe just got back from abroad—she's a little wild. Don't take it personally." When I wouldn't open my mouth, he set the cup down and brushed his fingers over my cheek. "She never grew up. You're a mother now, so don't stoop to her level." I stared at the blanket and slowly clenched the sheet in my fist. "You liked the post." My voice trembled as the words left my mouth. My throat was so raw even swallowing hurt. Adrian's hand paused. He glanced away, then quickly smiled and took my hand. "My finger slipped. I'll remove it right now." He pulled out his phone and tapped the screen a few times in front of me. "See? It's gone. You're too sensitive." My phone on the nightstand kept lighting up. w******p notifications kept coming in nonstop. Everyone in our circle was liking the photo, and someone had even shared a screenshot in the chat group. A: Guess the "goddess" has come down to earth now. Think Adrian can still bring himself to kiss that face? The comments flew by, one after another. I stared at them for a few seconds, then looked up at Adrian. "Make her delete it." Adrian exhaled and rubbed the space between his eyebrows. "She has a history of severe depression—her self-esteem is fragile. If I pressure her now, she might get triggered and relapse." He bent down, his breath brushing my forehead. "You've always been understanding. Just humor her like a child. In a few days, when she's forgotten about it, I'll make her delete it. Okay?" His movements were the same as before—soft voice, measured touch. But my stomach suddenly churned. The anesthesia had worn off completely. Pain pulsed through my incision, and cold sweat slid from my temples into my hair. "Get the doctor..." I clenched my teeth, my breathing ragged. "The pain pump... I don't think it's working." Adrian frowned and turned toward the door. The moment he opened it, rapid, labored breathing came from the hallway. Chloe was leaning against the door, one hand pressed onto her chest and the other tugging at her collar. Her face was pale. Adrian stopped. Less than a second later, he rushed out and swept her into his arms. He even caught the doctor who was hurrying toward my room. "Doctor, she's having a panic attack. Check on her first!" He dragged the doctor into the lounge next door. The pain became unbearable. Bracing myself against the bed rail, I tried to get down on my own. Adrian soon came back. He saw me—but he didn't offer a hand. Instead, he walked to the foot of the bed and wheeled away the room's wheelchair. "Chloe's legs are too weak. I need to take her to the car first." He pushed the wheelchair out without looking back. "I'll call a nurse to stay with you. Lie down. Dn't move." The sound of wheels rolling over the tile faded away. I gripped the bed rail until my jaw ached. Years ago, I'd defied the orchestra board, given up the chance to train in Bellmont, and insisted on marrying him. Back then, Adrian would frown as he carefully put bandages on the fingertips I'd rubbed raw practicing the cello. I'd never forgotten what he once told me. "Natalie, I'll protect you from now on. No one will ever hurt you again." Now I'd had my abdomen cut open, and even breathing pulled at the wound. Yet because another woman's knees felt weak, he had taken away the only wheelchair I had. I slowly eased myself back into bed and pulled the blanket over me. I didn't press the call button or complain about the pain again. My phone lay beside my pillow. I picked it up and sent a message to my former mentor. Natalie: I'll take next month's comeback audition.