When I woke the next morning, the blanket was tucked snugly around me, but Aiden was gone from the couch. A flicker of unease ran through me. I got to my feet, ready to open the door, when the lock turned and the door swung open. It was Aiden, his shoulders slightly damp, an umbrella in one hand and a bag of steaming breakfast in the other. “Awake?” he asked casually, setting the umbrella by the door before placing the bag on the table. “I grabbed coffee and sandwiches. I figured you’d be hungry when you woke up.” I nodded. Even though I’d just woken up, I hadn’t eaten much the night before; the hunger was already gnawing at me. Something about the scene felt cozy, like we’d been together for years. I glanced at the coffee and sandwiches on the table, my mouth watering. “What’s wrong? Don’t like it?” Aiden asked. I shook my head quickly. “No, of course I like it. I love sandwiches.” I sat down, grabbed a fork, and speared one of the sandwiches, taking a bite. “Mmm! This is really good; you should try one too.” His expression softened. “I had coffee outside just now; I’m not hungry. You eat.” I nodded and reached for another—when suddenly, deep inside, Freya’s voice rang out in warning. Alpha, there’s Spriteleaf in these sandwiches. We’re allergic. I froze mid-bite, the food still in my mouth. Damn it. I was practically immune to everything as an Alpha, but there was one thing I couldn’t handle, which was Spriteleaf. It wasn’t dangerous for ordinary werewolves, but to me, it was pure poison. And of course, Veloria’s sandwiches just had to contain it. An itch prickled along my arm. I dropped the fork and started scratching. “What’s wrong?”Aiden glanced down and spotted the red blotches blooming across my arm; his brows knit tightly. “Are you having an allergic reaction?” “There’s probably Spriteleaf in the sandwich,” I muttered. “But it’s fine; it’ll pass in a bit.” Except it didn’t. The itch grew sharper, spreading fast; breathing started to feel tight, shallow. “You’re allergic to Spriteleaf? And you didn’t say anything before eating so much of it?” His voice sharpened as his brows furrowed deeper. Without another word, he scooped me up and strode downstairs, barking at the receptionist to call an ambulance. Nestled against his chest, I whispered, “It’s not your fault. You bought it just for me—of course I wanted to finish it.” “Are you stupid? What if something happens to you?” His tone turned icy, sharp as a blade. Even while fighting the itch, I couldn’t help but tease, “If something happens, you can just marry some pretty girl and name your kid Winsley.” His glare could’ve cut glass. “Raelyn, if anything happens to you, I’ll be the one to kill you myself.” The anger in his voice was enough to shut me up instantly. At the hospital, the sterile scent of disinfectant filled my nose, and I grimaced. “Do I really have to get treated here?” Aiden’s eyes, cool and sharp, cut to me. “What do you think?” I forced a sheepish smile. “I’m guessing that’s a no.” “Good guess.” He sat down beside the bed and pulled out his phone, scrolling silently. “What about our trip?” I asked. “Plans change. You’ll stay here and get treated; we’ve got plenty of time, so don’t worry.” I sank into the hospital bed, sulking. Not long after, the door opened, and a doctor walked in to make rounds. I looked up, catching a flash of familiarity in her face, though I couldn’t place it. Then her eyes lit up, and she blurted out, delighted, “Aiden! I can’t believe you’re here!”The way she said his name made me frown in confusion. I turned to look at him. He gave her a small nod. “How have you been lately? And… how’s my dear Andrix doing?” Your dear Andrix? My frown deepened. That sounded awfully close. “We’re both fine,” Aiden said, his tone calm and distant, as always with people he didn’t know well. She seemed to know his temperament and didn’t push further. After a brief exchange, she walked over to my bedside to check on me—then froze. “Raelyn? What are you doing here?” And just like that, it clicked. “Long time no see, Malia.” The name tasted bitter on my tongue; I had no fondness for her. Four years ago, when I was studying abroad, I’d met Malia. She’d been in med school, found out Tempest was overseas, and had pulled every string to find him, hoping he’d take her as a student. But in a twist of fate, Tempest had chosen me instead. From that moment, Malia had hated me, convinced I’d stolen her chance. Her expression soured the second she recognized me. “Well, well… long time no see, Raelyn,” she said, her tone sharp with mockery. I had no interest in engaging. Closing my eyes, I leaned back, feigning sleep. When she realized I wasn’t going to respond, she quickly finished her inspection of the room and walked out without another word.