Rejected: A love story-Chapter 116: Milk?

Fiona’s POV

"Milk?" I repeated, my heart sinking as realization hit me like a truck.

Nathan’s expression confirmed it—his jaw was tight, his lips pressed into a thin line, and there was a faint sheen of sweat forming on his forehead.

"You’re allergic, aren’t you, oh my! I forgot?" I said, my voice trembling.

He didn’t answer right away, but his hand reached for his glass of water. He took a slow sip, his usual composed demeanor slipping just slightly. "It’s fine," he muttered, his voice a bit strained. "I’ll be fine."

"Fine?!" I shot up from my chair, panic already. "Nathan, you’re clearly not fine! Why didn’t you say something earlier?"

"I didn’t want to ruin the moment," he said with a weak smile, though his breathing was starting to sound a little off.

"Ruin the moment?" I stared at him in disbelief. "Nathan, you could’ve died! Where’s your EpiPen? Do you have one?"

He shook his head, his hand gripping the edge of the table now. "I haven’t needed one in years. It’s usually mild..."

"Usually?!" I was already scrambling for my phone, dialing for help. "This isn’t mild, Nathan! You’re sweating, and your breathing—"

"Fiona, stop," he said, his voice quieter now, almost raspy. "I don’t need a hospital. I just need to lie down. It’ll pass."

"No, it won’t!" I snapped, my voice breaking. "You’re not some indestructible superhero, okay? You’re a human being, and right now, you need medical attention!"

He tried to protest, but I already called 911 and gave them my address I was already pulling him up from the chair, wrapping an arm around his waist to steady him. He was heavier than he looked, and I struggled to keep him upright as we stumbled toward the couch.

"Sit," I ordered, practically shoving him down.

Nathan didn’t argue this time. He leaned back against the cushions, his chest rising and falling rapidly. His face was pale, and I could see the strain in his eyes.

I grabbed a glass of water and handed it to him, but his hand was shaking too much to hold it. I crouched beside him, holding the glass to his lips as he took a few sips.

"I’m sorry," I whispered, guilt clawing at me. "I should’ve told you there was milk in the food. I didn’t even think—"

"It’s not your fault," he interrupted, his voice barely above a whisper. "I should’ve asked. I just... I wanted to enjoy dinner with you. That’s all."

Tears stung my eyes, but I blinked them away. "You’re so stupid, Nathan. You can’t just ignore something like this for my sake. What if something happens to you?"

He reached out, his hand brushing against my cheek. "Then at least I’d know I was with you."

"Stop saying things like that," I choked out, my voice cracking. "You’re not allowed to die on me, okay? Not now, not ever."

He smiled faintly, but I could see the exhaustion in his eyes.

Nathan sighed heavily, his hand still clutching his chest as he leaned back against the couch. "Cupcake, you know... I told you about my allergy before."

His words hit me like a punch to the gut. I instantly felt guilty, and I paused, staring at him in disbelief.

"What?" I whispered, my voice barely audible.

He nodded slowly, his eyes closing for a brief moment as he tried to steady his breathing. "I told you. Months ago, when we were at my house. Remember? I was discussing with you about everything you needed to know before my parents came."

I stared at him, the memory rushing back like a tidal wave. He had told me. I remembered it now—the casual way he’d mentioned it, how I’d laughed and thinking he was just being picky. And yet, somehow, I’d forgotten.

"I... I didn’t..." My voice cracked, and I pressed a hand to my mouth, guilt washing over me in waves.

Nathan opened his eyes again, his gaze soft but piercing. "You didn’t mean to forget. I know that."

"But it’s not okay!" I burst out, my voice trembling. "Nathan, you could’ve died because of me! How could I forget something so important? What kind of person does that?"

He reached out weakly, his hand brushing against mine. "You’re human, Fiona. People forget things. I’m not mad at you, okay? I promise."

I shook my head, tears streaming down my face. "You should be mad. You should hate me for this. I almost—"

"Stop." His voice was firmer now, cutting through my panic like a blade. "I don’t hate you. I could never hate you. So stop beating yourself up about it."

I bit my lip, trying to hold back the sob threatening to escape. But his words only made me feel worse. How could he be so calm, so forgiving, when I’d put him in danger?

Just then, there was a knock at the door.

I jumped up, wiping at my face as I hurried to answer it. The paramedics stood on the other side, their expressions professional and reassuring.

"Is this the patient?" one of them asked, stepping inside.

"Yes," I said quickly, stepping aside to let them through. "He’s allergic to milk. He accidentally ate something with dairy in it, and now he’s having trouble breathing."

Nathan tried to wave them off as they approached. "I’m fine," he muttered weakly.

The paramedics ignored him, kneeling beside the couch and checking his vitals. One of them pulled out an epinephrine injector, while the other asked me questions about what had happened.

As I explained, my voice trembling, Nathan shot me a look that said,I told you I didn’t need this.

I glared back at him. "Don’t even start," I hissed under my breath.

He smirked faintly, but the exhaustion in his eyes was undeniable.

Later That Night

The hospital room was quiet, the air thick with the sterile scent of disinfectant. Nathan lay in the bed, his color slowly returning to normal. The doctor had assured me he was going to be fine, but my chest still felt tight with guilt.

I sat beside him, my hands folded tightly in my lap. He was awake now, his eyes half-lidded as he watched me in silence.

"You’re mad," he said softly, breaking the quiet.

I blinked, startled. "Mad? At you?"

He nodded. "You’ve been sitting there for the past hour, glaring at your hands like they personally offended you. You’re mad."

I shook my head, my throat tightening. "I’m not mad at you, Nathan. I’m mad at myself."

He sighed, shifting slightly in the bed. "Fiona, I told you—"

"I forgot," I interrupted, my voice cracking. "I forgot something you trusted me to remember. And because of that, you ended up here. How can you just sit there and act like it’s no big deal?"

Nathan gave me a long, steady look. "Because it is no big deal. I’m fine now. You didn’t do it on purpose."

"That doesn’t change the fact that I messed up," I said, my hands clenching into fists. "I should’ve remembered. I should’ve been more careful."

"Fiona..." He reached out, his hand brushing against mine. "You can’t carry the weight of the world on your shoulders. You’re allowed to make mistakes."

I looked away, tears pricking at my eyes again. "Not mistakes like this."

Nathan sighed, his fingers curling around mine. "You’re too hard on yourself, cupcake."

I laughed bitterly. "Maybe because I keep screwing things up."

He tugged gently on my hand, forcing me to meet his gaze. "Listen to me. You didn’t screw anything up. I’m here, aren’t I? I’m alive. And I’m not going anywhere."

I swallowed hard, his words settling over me like a warm blanket.

Nathan’s POV

She looked so fragile sitting there, her shoulders hunched, her eyes red from crying. Fiona wasn’t the type to break easily, but when she did, it was like watching a dam collapse all at once.

I hated seeing her like this.

"Cupcake," I said softly, brushing my thumb over her knuckles. "You know what I think?"

"What?" she muttered, her voice barely audible.

"I think you’re amazing."

She snorted, clearly not believing me. "Amazing? Yeah, right."

"I’m serious," I said, my tone firm. "You’re kind, smart, and stubborn as hell—which, by the way, I love about you. You care so much about everyone around you, even when you don’t realize it. That’s why you’re sitting here beating yourself up over something that wasn’t even your fault."

She blinked, her lips parting slightly as she stared at me.

"You’re amazing, Fiona," I repeated. "And I don’t want to hear you say otherwise ever again. Got it?"

She nodded slowly, her eyes glistening.

back to Fona’s POV

I didn’t know what to say. Nathan always had this way of making me feel like the most important person in the world, even when I didn’t deserve it.

"Why are you so good to me?" I whispered, my voice trembling.

He smiled faintly, his gaze soft. "Because you’re worth it."

The tears I’d been holding back finally spilled over, and I leaned forward, resting my forehead against his chest.

"I’m sorry," I whispered again.

He wrapped his arms around me, holding me close. "You don’t have to be."

The Next Morning

Nathan insisted on leaving the hospital as soon as the doctor cleared him, despite my protests.

"You should rest," I said, following him out to the car.

"I’ll rest at home," he replied, flashing me a grin.

I rolled my eyes but didn’t argue.

When we got back to my apartment, he immediately collapsed onto the couch, stretching out like he owned the place.

"Comfortable?" I asked sarcastically.

"Very," he said, smirking.

I shook my head, grabbing a blanket and tossing it over him. "Stay there. I’m making breakfast."

"Just don’t put milk in it," he teased.

I shot him a glare, but he just laughed.