Chapter 26 Isn't Camilla with You Right Now?
Camilla rolled back home and made a beeline for the fridge. Still stocked from yesterday's grocery run. She had plans: beef stew, pasta, roasted ribs, and a salad.
She got to work, chopping veggies like a pro. Lucas, who couldn't cook to save his life, was floored.
"Most folks just hit up takeout or restaurants. Girls like you, who actually cook, are a dying breed."
Camilla just shrugged and smiled. "Everyone's got their own thing. I'm just used to doing it myself."
Lucas watched her hustle around the kitchen, taking in the cozy vibe of her place. It wasn't huge, but it was spotless and had a personal touch.
A small bookshelf in the living room caught his eye, crammed with professional books. One stood out—a physics book. Weird.
Feeling a bit nosy, he decided to stop snooping around.
Soon, the kitchen was filled with mouth-watering smells. Lucas took a bite of the beef stew and his eyes nearly popped out. "Holy crap, this is amazing! You're a wizard in the kitchen."
Used to takeout, Lucas was blown away by Camilla's cooking.
Camilla chuckled at his reaction. "Glad you like it. Dig in."
Lucas nodded, "Thanks a ton for this meal." He hesitated, then added shyly, "You're awesome at cooking and just... awesome. Anyone dating you would be super lucky."
Before Camilla could reply, there was a loud knock at the door.
She frowned, setting down her forks. "Keep eating. I'll check it out."
Opening the door, she was yanked outside by Clara, who looked frantic.
"Come with me to the hospital. Leopold's sick and needs you."
Camilla stood her ground, eyes downcast. "We broke up. It is none of my business."
Clara was stunned. "He's got a stomach ulcer, and you're still mad? Why are you so heartless?"
"Didn't you love him? Is this how you show it? He mentioned breaking up in passing, and you took it seriously, throwing a fit because he didn't chase after you. For six years, he treated you like a queen. You lived in a villa, wore designer clothes, picked out jewelry, and had a black card."
Clara's envy was palpable. She didn't even have a black card.
"I used to defend you. Now you can't even visit him in the hospital?"
Camilla's face was stone-cold. "Nope, not going. You can leave now."
"Fine," Clara spat, laughing bitterly. "Remember what you said today. Don't come crying to get back with him!"
She kicked the door and stormed off.
Camilla's grip on the doorknob tightened, her knuckles white.
"You okay?" Lucas asked awkwardly. He hadn't caught the whole argument but knew it was heated.
Camilla shut the door and smiled. "It's nothing. Eat up."
Lucas glanced at her calm face. "Alright."
But the tension in the room was thick.
Even with the bomb food, Lucas felt all kinds of awkward eating it.
Once he finally finished, he made a quick exit.
The house fell silent. As Camilla cleaned up, Clara's words kept bouncing around in her head.
Stomach ulcer.
Lost in thought, she fumbled a bowl, and it shattered.
Instinctively, she reached to pick up the pieces and ended up cutting herself. She hissed in pain, tears splashing onto her hand.
Six years, not six days or six months. Some habits were hard to shake. Hearing Leopold was in the hospital, she almost instinctively wanted to rush over.
But she stopped herself.
Camilla figured she'd eventually get used to not worrying, not crying over him anymore.
From the highs of their love to the lows of their breakup, she couldn't pinpoint when things started to crack.
Maybe it was the first broken promise, or the first lie. Now, all she had were blurry memories.
Six years could mean everything or nothing.
Clara stomped down the stairs in her high heels, tripping over some trash in the hallway. She cursed, "What a dump! This place is disgusting. So annoying!"
Her phone rang.
"Leopold, why are you calling? Didn't the doc tell you to rest?"
She was still pissed but softened her tone a bit, though it stayed kinda stiff, given Leopold was a patient.
At the hospital, Leopold had just woken up and heard Clara had gone out.
"She went to find Camilla to drag her here to see you," Oliver shrugged, hands up like, "Couldn't stop her."
Leopold's eyes flickered. He waited another forty minutes, drinking water, sitting up, turning over, and glancing at the door a million times. Finally, he couldn't resist and called Clara.
"Where are you?"
Clara replied vaguely, "Outside."
"How much longer till you get here?"
Clara, having failed to bring Camilla, didn't really want to face Leopold.
"I'm not coming back. I'll go home first to get the chicken soup Mom made for you, and then—"
"Isn't Camilla with you right now?" Leopold sensed something was off and cut her off.
Clara said, "No."
Leopold gripped the phone tighter. "Who told you to find her? What does my hospitalization have to do with her? Don't you get what a breakup means? Mind your own business!"
"Yeah, yeah, I'm meddling! I'm the annoying one. You two should just forget each other!" Clara snapped back.
"What do you mean?"
Clara sneered. "Camilla said you have nothing to do with her, whether you're sick or dead. She just doesn't want to see you! Happy now?"
"Hello? Leopold? Leopold!"
No response.
She checked her phone; the call had already ended.
In the hospital room, Mira looked at Leopold's cold, dark eyes and then at the phone shattered on the floor.
Great, another one broken!
Mira instinctively clutched her own phone tightly. Leopold had just bought it for her, and she didn't want to lend it to him again.
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