The sudden movement almost made Ezra stumble to the floor.
He wasn’t angry, but there was a hint of sadness in his eyes. “Shermaine, are you really mad at me?”
Shermaine fought to suppress the nauseous feeling rising in her stomach, the urge to vomit almost overwhelming.
She shook her head, pretending to have a headache. “I’m fine. The doctor said I have the flu, and it’s contagious. Until I’m better, I should stay in the hospital so I don’t give it to you.”
Ezra’s frown deepened immediately at her words.
“Which doctor said that? No way, Shermaine. You have to come home with me.”
He crouched down, taking her hand with reverence and affection, like she was the most precious thing in the world. “If you’re not within my sight, I’ll worry about you.”
So tender, so loving.
He was trying once again to weave a web of sweetness, to deceive her without her noticing.
Shermaine pushed his hand away, forcing a smile that felt weak. “Ezra, don’t do this. I’ll come home when I’m better.”
Ezra saw the determination in her eyes and finally sighed. “Alright, fine.”
But the joy in his gaze was nearly impossible to hide.
After all, within the next few days, his secret affair would be a lot easier to manage.
Shermaine felt a wave of sadness.
Such poor acting. How had she not seen through it before?
Her hand, hidden behind her back, still clutched the miscarriage diagnosis, crumpled tightly in her fist.
In the following days, Ezra continued to spend the majority of his time with Shermaine.
Rain or shine, he came to the hospital every day, always attentive, always thoughtful.
The nurses would often comment on how perfect he seemed.
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