She’s the Obstacle, He’s the Hero, I’m Just the Plot They’re Skipping Chapter 09

She’s the Obstacle, He’s the Hero, I’m Just the Plot They’re Skipping Chapter 09

Flowers hit the floor — a wild, reckless spill of them, every color imaginable, petals spreading across the tile.

My stomach dropped. What was he doing here? If he kept showing up like this, dodging him during my trial appointments was going to get a lot harder.

Ethan’s gaze caught on my face, and his lips pressed together. Only then did I realize how hard I’d been frowning.

Then — out of nowhere — the scrolling comments flickered back to life. They’d been gone for so long I’d almost forgotten what they looked like.

[Lmao, the stand-in girlfriend is deluding herself again.]

[So what if the ML brought her a bunch of flowers? They’re all cheap ones.]

[When it’s Chloe, he buys her peonies, tulips, orchids — the expensive stuff.]

[It’s so obvious who he actually loves, lol.]

…

Maybe it was the wide-open grounds of this place. Or maybe the time apart had settled something in me.

I looked at the sunflowers scattered across the floor, the roses and lisianthus and bright-faced daisies. For the first time, something about the comments didn’t sit right with me anymore.

I’d always loved flowers like these — loud, cheerful, the kind you’d grab from a sidewalk flower stand. The pale, expensive arrangements people fussed over had never done much for me.

Ethan knew that about me. And he’d already dropped 1.2 million on my year here — why would he cheap out on a bouquet?

That wasn’t how Ethan operated. But what really caught my attention was something else — the second those comments came back, the stiffness that had been creeping through my joints and muscles for weeks suddenly loosened.

Not a recovery — not quite — but my body felt like mine again, the way it used to. Where were these comments coming from? Were there really people behind them, reading along?

I made up my mind to ask Ethan — all of it, everything I’d been piecing together in my head. But before I could open my mouth, the receptionist’s voice drifted in from the hallway.

“Mr. Carter, so glad you’re here. We just need your signature on the one-month care plan you reserved for Miss Bennett.”

“Everything’s top-tier — the room, the full suite of services. Just as you requested.”

My heart sank. It was like someone had tipped a bottle of ink inside my skull — all those clear, careful thoughts bleeding into darkness.

[The stand-in girlfriend is such an idiot. She had to beg forever just to get sent here, and she’s literally dying.]

[Our darling Chloe just sprained her ankle and the male lead booked her into this place without her even asking.]

[A terminal illness gets the same treatment as a sprained ankle. I don’t need to spell it out for you.]

[And the placeholder girlfriend is still standing there all moved. God, she’s pathetic.]