Fragments of Desire: Marigold's Silent Departure novel Chapter 7

Marigold stepped out of Willowbrook Retreat and took the subway back to her dorm alone.

Her roommates were all out for classes, so she quickly dived into the bathroom for a shower. She looked at her reflection—her skin was all purples and reds, a quite shocking sight.

The man last night had been anything but gentle, and his roughness bordered on cold-heartedness.

She scrubbed herself down thoroughly for a good long while before slipping into her pajamas and collapsing onto her bed with a big sigh of relief.

Surrounded by familiar sights and scents, her heart finally settled down.

Whipping out her phone, Marigold saw that Lennon still hadn't sent the money.

Staring at the empty chat bubble, she hesitated for ages, typing out a message, her cheeks flushing fire-engine red, only to chicken out and delete it.

Maybe just wait a bit longer, she thought.

Bringing up this issue felt somewhat embarrassing to her.

Lennon had been wrapped up with surgery since the crack of dawn, and had completely forgotten about this matter.

It wasn't until he stepped out of the OR at 3 p.m. and checked his phone that he saw the faint marks on his arm and remembered the payment.

He flicked open WhatsApp with one finger, easily spotting Marigold's contact with her dark-toned cartoon profile picture—a girl in a black hat.

Her name was listed as a simple initial: "M."

Their chat history was empty, not a single message exchanged.

The girl was clearly desperate for the money, but she wasn't making a peep to ask for it.

Chuckling to himself, Lennon entered an amount but paused at the password prompt and reconsidered.

Curious, he wondered how long she would keep up the facade.

Back at the outpatient clinic, he was juggling tasks, filling in for a doctor from the Gastrology Department who was on leave.

As the day wound down, and the clinic traffic thinned out to a trickle.

"Knock knock."

A polite knock sounded from the door.

"Come in," Lennon called out.

The door swung open, and in stepped soft, slow footsteps.

"How may I help you?" Lennon didn't look up from the medical chart as he spoke.

"Doctor, my lower abdomen is killing me."

That voice was soft and familiar.

Lennon glanced up just in time to see Marigold's surprised face.

Spotting him as well, her round, baby-faced cheeks flushing a deep red all the way to her ears.

Was it him?

He was a doctor.

She quickly ducked her head, feeling all kinds of awkwardness.

Meanwhile, Lennon maintained his professional demeanor, talking to her like they were strangers, "What kind of pain is it?"