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Chapter 143
Sabrina stifled a giggle. “Grace, you’re not mad, are you?” she challenged, a glint in her eyes.
I mumbled, pressing my throbbing forehead. “I don’t care.”
An awkward silence descended.
Sabrina looked down, then, using a nail clipper, began peeling off the sticker, muttering apologies.
The scraping sound grated on my nerves. I put on headphones, but Antonio’s gaze, through the rearview mirror, was
unwavering.
He then said to Sabrina, “Grace’s getting worse. Hospital.”
My condition, exacerbated by their relentless torment, had progressed to pneumonia.
Treatment escalated from IVs to inpatient care, but Sabrina refused to stay.
She anxiously checked her phone, seemingly bombarded with messages.
Antonio asked, “Friend’s waiting?
Sabrina shook her head, feigning distress. “My friend wants to see us, but Grace is sick. I can’t leave her.”
Antonio comforted her, whispering assurances, tears streaming
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Chapter 143
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down Sabrina’s cheeks as if she were the one suffering.
My helplessness was crushing.
I didn’t know they’d left until the nurse came to change my IV. She called for Antonio until I awoke.
Near midnight, the strong scent of alcohol alerted me.
Sabrina and Antonio, practically intertwined, were kissing in my
room.
A nurse intervened, pulling them back.
My doctor scoffed, “That man kissing your husband’s friend?”
I nodded.
He looked at me in disbelief. “And you’re calm? They waltzed in like it’s a motel!”
“I can’t control them, and they mean nothing to me,” I said, forcing a smile.
He signed, recognizing my isolation.
“Here’s my number. Call me if you need anything.”
Antonio barely visited, sending messages promising immediate arrival if I felt unwell.
But my replies never reached him because he had blocked my number and my Facebook account.
When I tried to pay my bills, my account was empty, save for only ten dollars.
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