Chapter 106: Discharged
Lorali Pov
"You are good to be discharged, Mrs. Spade," Doctor Quid says, looming above me with both hands plunged deep into the pockets of his white coat.
I’ve told him countless times to call me Lorali, but he insists on using Mrs. Spade for reasons I can’t fathom. I’m not married to anyone in the pack, so where exactly is he pulling that title from? The thought irritates me, though I keep my expression neutral.
"I’ve tried to contact Torin, but for some reason he isn’t answering his phone. Do you have another number I can use so someone can come fetch you?" His brow lifts as he studies me.
I shake my head, forcing a gentle, practiced smile. "It’s fine. I’ll just stay here a little longer." Truth is, I’m in no rush to return to that suffocating penthouse. Besides, I’ve grown fond of this place, it feels safer and quieter.
"Oh," he drags the word out in a tone thick with confusion. "You can’t do that. This hospital receives a lot of patients daily, and well, someone will be needing this room tonight after their operation."
"So, I’m being kicked out because I’ve healed," I say plainly, my voice flat. Doctor Quid nods slowly, his expression apologetic. "It’s not personal. This happens to everyone once they’re well enough. This is a hospital, not a hotel. There are always others who need the space more."
"Yeah, yeah," I sigh, waving off his explanation. "I get it. I’ll be out by the afternoon. No need to call anyone, I’ll make my own way home." My tone is dry, already imagining the long walk back to the penthouse.
He smiles, relieved, and adds, "Good then. There is also a hospital shuttle if you can’t manage on your own. It leaves at 14:00, so make sure you know how you’re leaving by then." With that, he waves goodbye and slips out of the room.
He could have mentioned that shuttle sooner. I was already picturing myself trudging through the streets, dragging my bag behind me.
Huffing, I sink deeper into the hospital bed, surprised again by how soft it is. What doesn’t surprise me is Torin ignoring his phone. He’s probably furious that I played him, wanting me to vanish altogether. All those words he said that day—his promises, his desperation—must have been nothing more than an act to salvage his pride after being caught. The thought twists in my chest, but I push it aside.
My eyelids grow heavy, and I slowly shut my eyes, surrendering to the wave of tiredness washing over me. It doesn’t take long before I’m out cold.
I don’t know how much time passes, but when I wake, it’s with a hot sweat clinging to my skin and a gnawing unease in my chest. My gaze flicks to the ticking clock on the wall. Two o’clock. On the dot. "Shoot!" I shout, bolting upright from the bed.
Of course. Of course I overslept. This is exactly the kind of luck I attract. Heart pounding, I rush around the room, grabbing my bag and stuffing clothes into it with frantic hands. "Damn it," I mutter under my breath. I never realized I had so many clothes until now, each piece feeling like it’s mocking me for wasting precious seconds.
When I’m finally done, I sprint down the hospital corridors, my bag heavy against my shoulder, my breath ragged. I burst through the entrance doors, praying I’m not too late. But I am. Not just late. Late enough to watch the hospital shuttle vanish around the corner, its taillights glowing faintly in the distance, mocking me with their retreat.
I stop at the curb, frozen, my bags weighing me down, staring after the disappearing vehicle in disbelief. My chest tightens, frustration bubbling up until it spills out of me. "You’ve got to be kidding me," I mutter, my voice sharp, cutting through the air like a blade. The words taste bitter, but they’re all I have as the reality of being stranded sinks in.
The shuttle is already halfway down the road, leaving me stranded. I exhale, the sound heavy, rolling my eyes as I mentally prepare for the long walk I’m about to endure. Of course. Nothing is ever easy in my life. I hate you, moon goddess, never once can I catch a break.
I adjust the strap of my bag and start walking, forcing myself to ignore the ache already blooming in my feet. A bitter thought crosses my mind: I wish I had never healed. At least then I’d still be in the hospital, comfortable, maybe even mocking Yurena at some point.
Then, vroooom.
A sleek black convertible Porsche glides to a stop directly in front of me. The roof is down, the engine purring like it knows it has an audience. Suspicion rises immediately, curling in my chest. I frown.
The driver’s window lowers. Astrid sits behind the wheel, sunglasses perched on her head, looking far too pleased with herself.
Great. Just the person I wanted to see. Might as well summon Yurena here too, moon goddess, let her watch me struggle.
"Need a ride?" Astrid asks, her tone casual, her smile the same infuriating one she always wears. "No," I reply flatly, my voice clipped. I’d rather die than get in that car. Never happening.
Astrid blinks, clearly expecting a different answer. I keep walking, my bags dragging at my arms. "Wow," she says, dragging the word out like she’s amused.
The convertible rolls forward beside me, matching my pace. "You didn’t even think about it," she presses, her voice teasing. I’ve never seen anyone so desperate to give someone a ride. "I don’t need a ride."
"You’re carrying half your life."
Half my life? In a bag? I scoff inwardly. If only it were that simple. "I can walk," I mutter. Astrid laughs, the sound light and full of life. "You know, Lorali, that pride is going to kill you one day."
"It hasn’t yet," I shoot back.
"Give it time."
Why is she EVERYWHERE! Who even is she? Like my life can’t get any worse. I have to see this girl everywhere I look. I am so going to give Torin an even worse day then the one his having for not fetching me. It’s because of him I’m talking to Astrid right now.