Lorali Pov
"What are you doing?" I ask, placing my hands on Torin’s shoulder. I kneel behind him on the bed, leaning forward to catch a glimpse of his phone screen, which is darkened by a privacy filter.
"I’m talking to Doctor Quid, booking a full body check‑up for you today," he says calmly, his tone steady, almost casual.
Oh no. My stomach drops. If a doctor does a full body check‑up on me, I’m screwed. Every lie will unravel. I can’t let that happen.
"Oh, that’s nice," I force myself to say, my voice light, though inside I’m distressed, panic clawing at my chest.
"Alright, I’m going for a shower," Torin says, placing his phone flat on the bed before rising. He takes lazy strides toward the bathroom behind us. I sit frozen until I hear the water running. That’s my signal.
Biting my nail, I grab Torin’s phone. It vibrates under my touch. Luckily, it doesn’t have a password. For a man as distrusting as he is, it’s hard to believe he leaves it unprotected.
I click on Doctor Quid’s new message notification:
Dr. Quid:
Alright, bring her through on my way to the hospital. I should be there when you arrive.
Shoot. I quickly turn off Torin’s phone, leaving it exactly as I found it. My hand slips into my bra, pulling out my own phone. I type fast, checking behind me twice to make sure the shower is still running.
Me:
I’m going to meet Torin’s family doctor today. If it happens, my lies will definitely get exposed.
It takes Ella a couple agonizing minutes before she replies.
❣️ Cherry Blossom 🌸:
Who is the doctor?
A weight lifts off my shoulders seeing her reply, and I quickly message back.
Me:
Dr. Quid. He’s an old‑looking man, Torin’s family doctor. That’s all I know.
❣️ Cherry Blossom 🌸:
I’ll see what I can do.
That’s the last message I read before she goes offline. The shower water stops. My heart races. I shove my phone back into its hiding place between my breasts, forcing myself to calm down. The last thing I need is Torin hearing my heartbeat and asking questions.
I peek back. Torin emerges wrapped in a towel, muscles on full display as he opens the wardrobe. Hurts to admit it, but he has one fine body. If I didn’t hate him, I’d be blushing at the sight. He pulls out a suit and returns to the bathroom, because obviously he can’t change in front of me. This whole same‑room arrangement is impractical. He sleeps on the floor, and the bathroom doesn’t even have a door.