He turned back to Emily, guiding her toward the waiting ambulance, his every movement protective, instinctive. Gritte huffed nearby, tail flicking in irritation. “Great. Now our night’s ruined,” she muttered, ignoring me entirely.
Once they disappeared into the night, I allowed myself to feel the sting of the burns. The waiter returned with a cold compress, offering it gently. “Here, ma’am. This should help.”
“Thank you,” I whispered, pressing the cloth to my skin. In that moment, a vow formed in my chest, as cold and sharp as the iron in my veins: I will never be ignored again.
I took a taxi to the hospital, each bump on the road reminding me of the sparks that had burned me. The ER doctor cleaned my arm carefully. “You’re lucky. It’s superficial. A few days, and it’ll heal.”
“Thanks,” I said, but overheard nurses whispering nearby. “Did you hear? Mr. Reyes booked an entire floor for Emily, brought in specialists.”
A bitter smile crept onto my face. Never once had he done anything like that for me, even when I had been his mate in all but name.