Augustine slumped into the back seat, scratching frantically. "I’m going to lose my mind. The itching is unbearable."
"Hang in there. I’m taking you to the hospital right now." Gustave pressed down on the accelerator, speeding off. His eyes flicked repeatedly to the rearview mirror, torn between frustration and concern.
Augustine had always been cautious and ticulous. Yet tonight, he had willingly eaten seafood—sothing he was severely allergic to—simply because he couldn’t bring himself to refuse his wife. He hadn’t wanted to dismiss the effort she had put into cooking for him.
Gustave couldn’t fathom how soone could willingly endure suffering just to keep another person happy.
Augustine had always been confident, focused, and relentless. For years, he had been preparing to reclaim what was rightfully his, planning his revenge against his uncle and cousin. His determination had never wavered; his purpose had never faltered. Nothing had ever distracted him.
Gustave had been by his side for the past five years and had never seen his boss act so recklessly. Augustine had never shown even the slightest vulnerability. But tonight, it was clear—Anne was becoming his greatest weakness.
At first, Gustave had assud that Augustine had married Anne purely as part of his revenge plan, using her as a re pawn to provoke Denis. But he had been mistaken. Augustine had truly fallen for her.
As Gustave glanced at his boss, watching him struggle, his frustration grew. His grip on the steering wheel tightened.
’This isn’t good. She is a danger to him. She needs to stay away from him.’
At Augustine’s place...
Anne couldn’t sleep. Even though Augustine had told her not to wait up, she found herself anxiously awaiting his return. But as the clock struck midnight, there was still no sign of him.
She tossed and turned, unable to shake the thoughts of him from her mind. Worry gnawed at her.
Why had he left so suddenly? What urgent matter had co up?
Her thoughts spiraled endlessly. Then, a more troubling possibility crossed her mind.
’Did Denis do sothing to trouble him?’
The re thought unsettled her even more.
Unable to resist her growing concern, Anne sat up and reached for her phone on the bedside table. She quickly dialed Augustine’s number, her heart pounding as the call rang and rang. But no one answered it.
With a sigh, she pulled the phone away from her ear, staring at the screen with uncertainty.
’Is he still caught up with work? Am I disturbing him?’
Biting her lower lip, she debated whether to call again. After a few monts of hesitation, she decided to send a ssage instead: ’It’s already midnight. I was wondering when you’d be coming ho. Please call back as soon as you are free.’
She kept her eyes fixed on the screen, hoping for a quick reply. The minutes crawled by, painfully slow. But there was nothing. No ssage. No call.
Her eyelids grew heavy, yet she forced herself to stay awake, hoping he would respond any mont now. But the phone remained silent.
Eventually, exhaustion overtook her, and she drifted off to sleep, still clutching the phone in her hand.
At the hospital...
Augustine’s condition finally stabilized, and he was moved from the ergency ward to a VIP room.
"You are lucky you got to the hospital in ti," the doctor said sternly. "You know you are allergic to seafood, so why did you eat it? Are you trying to kill your life?"
Augustine, despite his exhaustion, managed a small grin. "Doctor, actually... my wife cooked for with so much love and care. I just couldn’t refuse her."
Hearing this, the doctor’s strict expression softened slightly, but his tone remained as sharp as before. "That’s no excuse. You could have simply told her about your allergy. What’s the problem? Do you think she’d be happy knowing you ended up in the hospital because of her cooking? She’d be devastated."
Augustine’s smile faded. He hadn’t thought of it that way. The idea of Anne being upset over this hit him hard.
"Anyway, your condition is stable now," the doctor continued. "But you need proper rest to recover fully. Avoid spicy food for the next few days and take the prescribed dications. And..." He raised a finger in warning. "Tell your wife about your allergy. Don’t keep secrets from her."
With that, the doctor left.
Augustine let out a deep sigh, rubbing his forehead. "What a ss I’ve made," he muttered, regret weighing on him. When he lowered his hand, his gaze t Gustave’s, who stood silently beside the bed, his expression cold.
Even without words, Augustine could tell his friend was upset. "You think I was wrong too, don’t you?"
Gustave took a mont before responding, his voice icy. "I’ve never seen you act so recklessly. You knowingly put yourself in danger just to please her. I don’t understand it."
A nostalgic smile crossed Augustine’s lips. "I never thought I’d do sothing like this either." Even he was surprised at himself. He had eaten the shrimp, knowing it was like poison to him. And now, it was clear—he was completely, hopelessly in love with Anne. He couldn’t imagine his life without her.
"I made a mistake," he admitted. "And I’ll fix it." He stretched out his hand toward Gustave. "Give my phone. I’ll tell her myself."
Gustave hesitated. He had seen Anne’s call and ssage earlier but had deliberately ignored them. "It’s already late. You should rest. Talk to her in the morning."
Augustine considered this and nodded. He had told her not to wait up. Anne was probably asleep by now. Calling her now would only worry her.
"Alright, I won’t disturb her."
"I’ll be outside. Call if you need anything," Gustave said before walking out.
As he stepped into the hallway, his expression darkened. He had already decided—he would call Anne first thing in the morning and tell her to co to the hospital.
"I need to have a serious talk with her," he resolved.
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