He Timed Our Dates, But Gave Her All His Time—So I Stopped Time For Us Chapter 02

He Timed Our Dates, But Gave Her All His Time—So I Stopped Time For Us Chapter 02

Julian returned to the bedroom after ending the call.

He noticed the clothes hanging over the closet door.

One corner crossed the dividing line he had marked for my side.

He frowned.

“Put that away. It’s messy.”

I gave a quiet hum.

Then I pulled every black, white, and gray item from the closet, everything that matched his taste instead of mine.

I threw it all in the trash.

Julian watched without saying a word.

He didn’t even ask why.

He rolled over, turned his back to me, and went to sleep.

The next morning, I woke up burning with fever.

The rain had finally caught up with me.

Julian stood beside the bed, fully dressed.

“It’s 7:15. You didn’t have breakfast ready on schedule. You’ve thrown off my entire morning.”

My head throbbed.

When I tried to sit up, my vision went black.

He opened the notes app on his phone and typed something.

“Five points deducted from your relationship score.”

I staggered into the kitchen.

His breakfast plate was still on the table: fried eggs, toast, and milk, exactly as usual.

There was nothing for me.

His shirts and dress pants were gone from the laundry basket.

He had washed them.

My rain-soaked dress was still there.

He had only washed his own clothes.

I took a rideshare to Fairhaven General Hospital.

The emergency room was unbearably loud, and I could barely stay on my feet.

The doctor prescribed medication and ordered IV fluids.

My temperature was 102.5°F.

“You’re too unsteady to leave alone after the IV. We need your emergency contact to come sign you out.”

I held my phone for a long time before finally calling Julian.

It rang and rang before he answered.

“What is it?”

“I’m at the hospital. I have a fever, and they need my emergency contact to come sign me out after the IV-”

“You’ve seen my schedule. My morning is full.”

“It’ll take two minutes. You just have to sign the discharge form.”

Silence.

“I can spare forty minutes. Twenty minutes for the round trip and twenty minutes with you.”

“Could you pick up a heating pad at the pharmacy downstairs?”

He hung up.

A moment later, my phone buzzed.

He had sent me a link from a delivery app.

[You can have one delivered.]

Ten minutes later, Julian arrived exactly on time.

He signed the discharge form, opened his laptop, and started working.

The IV fluid was ice-cold.

My entire arm went numb.

I glanced at him but said nothing.

I ordered the heating pad myself.

When the nurse came to change the IV bag, she looked at the back of my hand and frowned.

“Why is it so swollen? Are you having an allergic reaction?”

Only then did I notice the angry red rash covering my entire hand.

It itched.

It hurt.

Beep.

Julian’s reminder went off.

He closed his laptop, didn’t even look at me, and stood to leave.

“Julian, wait. My hand-”

He turned and gave my swollen hand a quick glance.

“My time is up. I have an important meeting this afternoon.”

Then he left.

The nurse hit the call button for help.

The elderly woman in the next bed handed me her heating pad.

“Here, sweetheart. Use mine.”

Doctors and nurses rushed around me, changing the medication and treating the reaction.

I lay there alone and endured the worst of it.

By evening, my fever had finally gone down a little.

I leaned against the pillows and scrolled through social media.

Sophia had posted nonstop all afternoon.

Julian appeared in every post, playing with her golden retriever.

In the photos, he was smiling.

Patient.

Focused.

I looked down at my own hand.

The rash hadn’t faded, and the bruise from the IV was still dark purple.

I opened a resale app and listed the matching smartwatch Julian had given me.

The electronic shackle that told me what I should be doing every minute of every day.

I didn’t need it anymore.

When I got home, I packed everything I’d bought to suit his preferences.

His taste.

His rules.

His cold, colorless style.

I sealed it all into boxes.

The apartment looked half-empty.

The next morning, Julian woke and reached for the glass of water that was always waiting on his nightstand at exactly 113°F.

It wasn’t there.

He walked into the closet.

There was no freshly ironed shirt waiting for him.

He checked his watch and frowned.

“Your negligence has delayed my morning routine by eight minutes.”

I sat at the dining table eating avocado toast and drinking a smoothie, both things he had always forbidden me from having.

The food was warm and fragrant.

I hadn’t enjoyed breakfast this much in years.

Without looking up, I said, “That’s your problem.”

His expression darkened.

He probably thought I was still sulking over our anniversary.

He didn’t say anything else.

He poured his own water, found his own clothes, and slammed the door on his way out.

That afternoon, the lock clicked.

Julian walked in with Sophia Bennett.