Dine Out

As I sat in the staffroom, the glow of my phone screen illuminated the dim surroundings, jolting me from the post-lecture lull. "Hi! sweetheart!" the text read, prompting a smile as I tapped out a reply.

"Hey!" I responded, curiosity piqued about the evening's plans.

"What's the plan after off?" came the next message, to which I replied with a casual "Nothing special! Will you come to pick me? Or should I take a cab?"

"I'll be there at sharp 2:30 pm," came the swift response, filling me with a sense of anticipation.

"Okay!" I typed back, feeling a flutter of excitement at the prospect of spending time together.

"Yeah, we will go for lunch after that, I hope you don't have any plans," the message continued, and I reassured him with a simple "Not really. Ok fine!"

"See ya!" he sent, and I echoed the sentiment with a "Same here!" before pocketing my phone and returning to my tasks.

At the stroke of 2:30 pm, I made my way out of the gates, greeted by the sight of Carl's car already parked nearby. "When have you started being so punctual from?" I teased as I settled into the passenger seat, noting the hint of amusement dancing in his eyes.

"I was passing by near this area so thought of picking you," he explained with a grin, though his attempt to hide it was evident.

"Why are you blushing?" I couldn't help but ask, noticing the telltale flush creeping up his cheeks.

"What? Who is blushing? Me? Oh, no no! There's nothing like that," he deflected, though his sheepish smile betrayed him. I opted not to press further, respecting his choice to keep whatever was causing his embarrassment to himself.

The car hummed along the familiar route, each passing landmark triggering a cascade of memories that played out like scenes on the rear window. Everything seemed unchanged—the streets, the buildings, the places—but the presence beside me was markedly different. Where Arthur had sat just days before, now Carl occupied the seat.

As the car continued its steady journey, I noticed we were heading towards the same restaurant. The realization sparked a surge of curiosity within me, compelling me to inquire. "Which restaurant are we going to?" I asked, my voice tinged with a mix of anticipation and apprehension.

"There's a famous Italian restaurant in town. I know you love Italian food, so..." Carl's words trailed off, but their implication hung heavy in the air. My stomach clenched suddenly, a sharp pang slicing through me as memories flooded my mind.

In an instant, the scene on the rear window shifted, morphing into a vivid recollection of Arthur and me, engaged in lively conversation around a table in that very restaurant. But then, like a wrenching twist in a story, the memory turned sour. I could feel my frustration mounting, a sense of anguish rising within me until it became almost unbearable.

With a jolt, I felt the car come to a halt, Carl turning to me with concern etched across his features. "What happened?" he asked, his voice filled with genuine worry as he brought the car to the side of the road.

"My stomach... it's aching," I managed to choke out, my words strained as I wrapped my arms around myself, the pain intensifying with each passing moment.

Carl's reproachful words echoed in the confined space of the car, his tone a mixture of concern and frustration. His lecture on the importance of breakfast was a familiar refrain, one I had heard countless times before. Yet, despite his repeated admonitions, I often found myself rushing out the door in the morning, neglecting the most important meal of the day in my haste to make it to school on time.

"I'll eat something at school," I would retort, a feeble excuse offered on those days when I left home without so much as a bite to eat. But Carl's reminders of the importance of a nutritious breakfast fell on deaf ears, drowned out by the clamor of my hectic morning routine.

As the pain in my stomach intensified, I couldn't help but lash out in frustration. "You shouldn't treat me like that, especially when I'm in such excruciating pain," I protested, the discomfort gnawing at me relentlessly.

"We're almost there. Let's just get to the restaurant first. I'm sure you'll feel better once you've eaten something," Carl reassured me, his voice steady as he restarted the car, guiding us towards our destination.

Upon arrival, Carl gallantly held the door open for me, and I stumbled out, my arms still wrapped tightly around my aching stomach. Together, we made our way into the restaurant, following the graceful lead of the waitress as she escorted us to our table.

As we passed rows of neatly arranged tables, my gaze lingered on the spot where I had shared a meal with Arthur just days before. A pang of unease washed over me, prompting a flurry of introspection.

"Why am I thinking so much about him?" I mused silently, the question lingering unanswered in the recesses of my mind.

"Please, ma'am, have a seat," the waitress said politely, her demeanor exuding an air of courtesy and respect.

"We'll also need a bottle of water," Carl interjected, his attention momentarily diverted as the waitress nodded and departed to fulfill his request.

"Sure, sir!" With a polite nod, the waitress turned gracefully on her heels, her strides purposeful as she made her way towards the bar.

"How are you feeling now?" Carl inquired, his concern palpable in the furrow of his brow.

"Worse," I confessed, my voice barely more than a hoarse whisper as the pain in my stomach continued to gnaw at me.

Meanwhile, the waitress approached us, bearing a tray laden with a bottle of mineral water and several glasses. Her movements were fluid and precise, a testament to her years of experience in the service industry.

With practiced ease, Carl twisted the cap off the bottle and began pouring water into a glass, his movements steady and deliberate. As he offered me the half-filled glass, I found my gaze drifting around the restaurant, taking in the familiar surroundings now populated by unfamiliar faces.

The atmosphere was alive with the buzz of conversation and laughter, the air thick with the aroma of delicious food. Everywhere I looked, I saw groups of people enjoying their meals, their animated expressions a stark contrast to the turmoil brewing within me.

Taking a seat beside me, Carl placed the glass of water within my reach, his presence a reassuring anchor amidst the chaos of my thoughts. But as I turned my head towards him, my eyes widened in shock, for where Carl should have been seated, Arthur now sat beside me.

A sharp surge of pain ripped through my stomach, eliciting a strangled cry of distress. "Are you okay?" Carl's voice cut through the haze of agony, his concern evident in the furrow of his brow.

"No, it's getting out of control," I gasped, the pain intensifying with each passing moment.

Without hesitation, Carl reached for his phone, his fingers flying over the keypad as he dialed for help. "Let me take you to the hospital," he declared, his voice steady despite the urgency of the situation.




Spoiled Billionaire Doctor's Possession
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