After calling out for help but to no avail, I concluded that I was all alone and I had to help myself.
My ankle was swelling fast and the pain increased with each passing second.
Rowan had booked an executive room and so it was no surprise that there was no one within earshot.
So much for suggesting a romantic trip for our anniversary, I said to myself and pushed myself up, ignoring the sharp sting in my ankle.
Propping myself against the wall for support, I managed to drag myself to the telephone to call room service.
"Room service. How may we help you?"
"I need medical attention, I have a sprained ankle and it's hurting really bad," I cried, pressing my eyes shut as though that would help decrease the pain. It seemed like I had made the situation worse by trying to walk with it.
"Executive floor, room 116," I gave my room number and let the telephone slip back to its holder even before I could hear a reply. The pain seemed to be moving from my legs to the other parts of my body and the image of Rowan and Camille that formed in my head just made it feel even worse.
Minutes later, two medical attendants rushed into the room, one of them rolling in a wheelchair. They were quick but careful as they pulled me up from the floor. None of them panicked which helped to calm me down a little.
As they wheeled me through the quiet hallway to the elevator, one of them continued to say softly, "It's alright. You'll be fine. Just hang in a few minutes longer, okay?"
If only they knew that my sprained ankle was not the real injury here…
I was more concerned about what Camille's reasons were for faking an accident to the point of even causing physical harm to herself.
Probably to get Rowan's attention? But why go to such lengths?
I'd noticed debutantes flocked around him like moths to a flame, hungry for the slightest bit of attention, I'd seen socialites make flirtatious glances and try to start small talks with him at exclusive events, only to be responded with nothing more than an emotionless, uninterested nod of the head in greeting and perfunctory replies.
Why was it different with Camille?
In a matter of minutes, I was wheeled into the hotel's medical center and everything appeared too bright for comfort. The smell of disinfectant assaulted my nostrils, bringing back memories of the traumatizing period when my father had been hospitalized.
"We'll have a nurse to attend to you shortly okay?" one of the attendants said. I thanked her and watched them leave.
Suddenly one of the doors to a room opened and a doctor walked out, with a paper in his hand. The sight of the other person that emerged would have knocked me off my feet if I wasn't already seated.
Rowan followed behind the doctor. He now had a shirt on over his towel.
I must have let out a loud gasp as I sighted him because they both glanced in my direction and Rowan's expression darkened. He looked away from me and back to the doctor as though he had no idea who I was. Not that I expected a special treatment anyway.
"... But you can confirm at a hospital when she's better."
"Thank you, doc," Rowan said and walked back into the room but not without giving me another glance.
I badly wanted to go over there and explain what had really happened but the throbbing pain in my ankle was too intense. The anger and heartbreak I felt bubbled violently within me.
"How're you doing ma'am? Is there someone attending to you right now?" the doctor asked empathetically while walking to me.
"Yeah, they said a nurse would be here shortly, but I, er, wanted to ask how the lady in that room is doing. She's a…friend." The lie left a bitter aftertaste in my mouth and I swallowed.
"Oh, she says she had a terrible fall and scraped her arm over a sharp surface. It doesn't look likely to me though," the doctor paused as though thinking about something. "But her baby's fine at least."
My heartbeat froze. I blinked. The doctor's lips were still moving but I couldn't hear a thing.
Camille was pregnant? How? When? But her husband died months ago.
Could it be that Rowan…
No! I banished the thought as soon as it reared its ugly head. It can't be.
I sank deeper into the chair, wishing I would just disappear and not have to bother about all of this. Had Rowan been extra protective of her because she was carrying his…
"Let me see the foot." My eyes shot up to see that the doctor was still standing beside me.
I swallowed and simply nodded to him, not finding the strength to speak anymore.
He wheeled me into a small office and took out a first aid box. I stared into thin air, my body completely numb as he cleaned the skin of the affected area and gently massaged the bone.
Realization dawned on me clearer than ever before. The reason for Rowan's different attitude to her was no longer a mystery.
"You're a really strong woman," the doctor's words interrupted my thoughts.
"Huh?"
"You're a really strong woman," he repeated. "Your ankle might hurt a little for a few days but you'll be fine. You didn't even flinch at the pain."
The sparkle in the doctor's eyes felt like I had broken a record.
I looked away. None of that was important right now. If he knew how shattered I was inside, he would never use the word "strong" to describe me.
"Is my friend going to be okay?" I asked, intending to pry more information from him.
"Yes, she will. Her husband was of really great help, holding her the whole time."
I couldn't help the scoff that escaped my lips. "That's my husband," I blurted before I could restrain myself.
Color drained from the doctor's face immediately he heard my words.
"I'm… I had no idea. She said that… I'm really—" he stuttered but I shook my head dismissively before he could finish his apology.
"It's fine. And thank you," I smiled briefly. "I'd love to see them now." I stood from the chair and limped out the room
Holding her the whole time…
I had found my least favorite five words.