The Indifferent Ex-Husband: Heartstrings in the Mall of Fate novel Chapter 11

Sophia had just cleared security when Ivan finished up too.

They headed to the boarding gate together, keeping a bit of distance one after the other, barely exchanging words along the way.

Once they reached the security hall, they each plopped down onto their own patch of empty seats.

Ivan took the spot next to Sophia, whipped out his phone the moment he sat down, looking like he was swamped with work.

Sophia didn't peep a word, her gaze drifting from the bustling crowd in the gate area to the window outside.

Outside, the sky was gradually darkening.

The tarmac was ablaze with lights, planes taking off and landing, the night merging with the lights, slowly deepening the sense of parting.

Sophia thought back to that call with Brandon – picked up and then abruptly dropped – her fingertips grazing the edge of her phone. She felt nowhere near as calm as she had expected.

Brandon always had a way of getting under her skin, no matter what.

She wanted to call him back, ask what was up, but then she remembered their goodbye, how he'd hugged her gently, told her to take care, and the determined stride he took as he walked away. Her fingers, which had been caressing the edge of her phone, finally relaxed, and she shifted her gaze to the specks of light outside the window.

The unease in her gut wasn't letting up. In fact, it seemed to be getting worse.

She was in for a flight over ten hours long, and she was starting to worry about a mid-air body breakdown. Her hand instinctively pressed against her chest, hesitating whether she should grab some meds.

Ivan glanced up at her. "Feeling off?"

Sophia gave a slight shake of her head. "I'm fine."

Her eyes caught a glimpse of a pharmacy nearby and paused for a moment.

Ivan picked up on her pause. "Not feeling well?"

Sophia, a tad embarrassed. "Yeah, probably didn't sleep well last night and didn't eat much today. My stomach's throwing a bit of a fit."

Ivan frowned. "Stomach acting up?"

As if on cue, a wave of nausea hit Sophia, and she couldn't hold back a dry heave to the side, hand covering her mouth.

Ivan pocketed his phone and stood up. "Let's get you some meds before we're stuck on that plane for hours."

Sophia nodded.

The pharmacy was just to the side, next to a food joint, its rich food aromas mingled with the greasy scent of cooking oil, constantly assaulting Sophia's stomach.

She raised a hand to block her nose and looked over at the pharmacy staff, asking for some stomach medicine.

The staffer, a cautious pharmacist, asked, "Diarrhea?"

Sophia shook her head. "No, just nauseous and queasy."

"How long has this been going on?"

"Just started this morning."

"How long exactly?"

Sophia thought for a sec. "Felt a bit sick when I got up, but felt better after breakfast. Then, out of nowhere this afternoon."

She suddenly stopped, a hazy suspicion crossing her mind, her eyes widening slightly at the potential revelation.

Just then, someone walked by with a steaming hot pot of oden, the pungent seafood smell triggering another wave of nausea. Sophia turned away instinctively, gagging, while Ivan quickly patted her back, concerned. "You alright?"

Sophia didn't respond, just looked up blankly, pale and a mix of startled and clueless.

Ivan's hand on her shoulder paused, worry in his eyes. "What's up?"

Sophia managed to twist a smile at him. "It's nothing."