Chapter 7 Quentin Returns to the Marital Home
Lauren arrived at People's Hospital, registered herself, and sat outside waiting to be called.
She was anxious, puzzled over how her normally robust health had succumbed to a sudden cold with high fever. Worrying about the baby's well-being due to her condition and feeling lost as a first-time mother, Lauren was out of sorts.
"Ms. Lauren, please come in for your appointment!" the electronic screen called out her name, and Lauren promptly got up and entered the consultation room.
"Hello, please take a seat. What seems to be the trouble?" the doctor asked with a comforting tone.
Lauren nodded hurriedly, "Doctor, I have a fever, measured at home, it was 102 degrees, but I’ve just become pregnant. It won’t affect the baby, will it?"
The doctor smiled at the visibly anxious Lauren, "Don’t worry. A cold and fever won't seriously affect the baby as long as you avoid self-medicating and follow medical advice closely. You need to relax; being tense all the time isn't good for you or your baby. If you’re always this stressed, your child will feel it too."
Lauren let out a long sigh of relief, the assurance that everything was okay relaxed her nerves considerably.
"Thank you, doctor," Lauren said with heartfelt gratitude.
"It's all right. This must be your first time being pregnant, right? It's normal to be inexperienced. Ask others if you have any questions. Pregnancy is a sacred mission that ensures the continuation of life. Don't be embarrassed."
Lauren nodded. She wasn't embarrassed, she just couldn't think of anyone to tell, or whom she could tell.
After a blood test and a physical examination, Lauren finally left the hospital, carrying a bag of medicine. She planned to follow the doctor's advice. Eat well, rest up, and keep her spirits high, all for the sake of having a healthy, happy baby.
Upon her relaxed return to The Robinson Family Villa, Lauren pushed open the villa's door as usual, crossed the Grand Garden, and entered the grand hall, only to find the servants bustling about in a hurry.
Lauren was puzzled. What was happening today? Since when did the servants become so ‘diligent?’
The butler, seeing Lauren's return, hastened to greet her, "Madam, you're back. Quentin has been here for quite a while looking for you."
A look of joy was evident on the butler's face; he was sincerely happy for Lauren, hoping this kind-hearted girl would find happiness.
Lauren's heart skipped a beat, torn between the idea of happily meeting the man and worrying about her own circumstances.
"Oh, does he need something?" Lauren inquired, trying to discern Quentin's reason for returning.
The butler shook his head, indicating that their master's affairs were not for servants to inquire into.
Lauren sighed, knowing that it was useless to ask. After all, how could anyone guess the thoughts of a man as cold as him?
"Madam, Quentin is waiting for you in the room," the butler kindly reminded her.
Lauren came back to her senses, murmured a soft acknowledgment, and ascended the stairs.
Her emotions were a whirlwind. She had thought that even if they didn't divorce, Quentin continuing to act as if she didn't exist would at least let her live more comfortably, and at least the existence of the child wouldn't be easily discovered by him.
But why had he returned to the villa so soon after their faces had been torn apart yesterday? What was he trying to accomplish? Could it be that he had changed his mind and agreed to the divorce?
Divorce...
Lauren silently mouthed the words ‘divorce’ to herself, and had to admit that the mere thought of leaving Quentin caused an involuntary ache in her heart. She loathed how weak she was, wondering why she continued to subject herself to humiliation when it was evident that he despised her so openly. She would've been better off just flipping her hair with cool detachment and waving goodbye, rather than undermining the tough image she'd crafted over the last two years, akin to a Ninja Turtle.
She stood hesitantly at the base of the staircase, torn between advancing and retreating. After finally steadying her emotions, Lauren, with the resignation of someone facing the inevitable, made her way toward the room she shared with Quentin.
At the door, Lauren hesitated again. Should she knock, or just walk in? It was only then she realized, much as she didn't want to admit it, that her love for him had penetrated deep into her bones.
Determined to shed her timidity and stop loving him, Lauren pushed the door open with force and was unexpectedly met with the sight of a tall, imposing figure sitting on the sofa in the room.
"Butler said you were looking for me. Is something the matter?" Lauren asked Quentin, trying to maintain an even tone.
Quentin stared at her coldly. Lauren had become bolder, disappearing early in the morning without a trace. He had tried to contact her, only to realize he didn't even know how. His pride was too great to ask anyone for help; he didn't want others to sense any change in his feelings toward Lauren.
He studied her closely. Her pale face bore signs of exhaustion, and he wondered where she had gone to be so tired this early.
Lauren clenched the medication in her pocket, determined to keep him from finding out she had been to the hospital. She didn't even understand her own stubbornness.
"Get ready. We're visiting the Dowager at the home," Quentin said, rising to his feet and filling the room with an icy presence that left Lauren somewhat dazed.
What did he mean? Why was she to accompany him to the home, and in what capacity?
As Quentin walked past Lauren, his keen sense of smell immediately detected something off about her. He had become intoxicated by her natural, sweet scent after their intimate night—irreplaceable by any perfume—and he had to admit, he was addicted to it.
Today, however, she carried the overpowering scent of antiseptic, masking her usual fragrance, and Quentin was clearly annoyed.
"Where have you been?" he suddenly halted and asked.
Lauren's body tensed. She hadn't fully processed the trip to the home when his question caught her off-guard.
"Just out for a walk," she replied vaguely.
Quentin perked up with interest, turning to look down with a teasing expression at the petite woman before him, who was quite a bit shorter.
"Oh? Just a random stroll that landed you at the hospital? Woman, don't even think about keeping secrets from me. If I want to know something, there's nothing you can hide."
Lauren wanted to retort, to shout that it was none of his business whether she went to the hospital or not, but when she looked into Quentin's deep eyes, she forgot all the anger that had been in her mind.
Quentin had already noticed Lauren's hand that had remained in her pocket. With a sudden forceful motion, Lauren's right hand was jerked out, scattering the medications she held all over the floor.
It was only when Quentin came into contact with Lauren's hand that he realized she had a fever – a detail he had carelessly missed. He had seen the slight flush on Lauren's cheeks and assumed it was shyness from seeing him, not realizing it was a symptom of her fever.
