After two days of relentless chaos, one day spent living it up, the next was meant for pure, unadulterated horizontal living. There’s nothing more glorious than being a complete couch potato.

Evangeline spent the entire day curled up in bed—scrolling through Twitter/X when she was awake, drifting off when she was tired. It was pure bliss. Helen, ever the doting housekeeper, saw how the once-full cheeks of her palm-sized face had hollowed out into sharp angles. Heartbroken, she whipped up a series of restorative, nutrient-dense stews.

But it seemed Evangeline’s system was too fragile for such heavy nourishment. By nightfall, she was hit with a spontaneous nosebleed. As she pinched her nose, she caught a glimpse of the icy, furious man reflected in the vanity mirror. She offered a sheepish, awkward grin.

"Marcellus, I promise... I’ll eat properly from now on."

"Look at Remi," Marcellus growled, his voice tight with suppressed rage. "She hasn't changed a bit. How did you manage to waste away until you’re this fragile?"

He was fuming, but he was visibly straining to keep his tone under control.

"Heh... it's just a bad habit I have. When I'm anxious, I lose my appetite."

"Evangeline, I support your dreams and your career. But if you keep treating your health like this, I will forbid you from working entirely."

Seeing he was genuinely terrified, Evangeline turned and wrapped her arms around his waist in a soothing embrace.

"I know, I know. I get it."

Marcellus let out a defeated sigh. "Don't think that being cute will get you off the hook this time."

Even though the words remained harsh, the edge had clearly vanished from his voice. Evangeline knew he’d been pacified. She smiled, stood on her tiptoes, and planted a quick kiss on his cheek.

"I promise, I really do!"

The business was stabilizing, and there were no immediate, high-stakes deadlines demanding she bleed for her work. She needed to focus on her health. Marcellus had traded his own life to secure this second chance for her; she couldn't afford to burn herself out and throw it all away.

The next day, Evangeline and Remi stopped by Noah Mitchell’s office, hoping to convince him to take a few days off, but he shut them down immediately.

"I don't need to. Being busy is the only thing that makes me feel secure."

"Noah, why don't you take some time to go home and visit your mother?" Evangeline suggested. He just shook his head.

"Before the end of the year, I’ll have her moved out here."

With the company’s current growth, the year-end dividend would be enough to put a down payment on a small place in the city. That was the fuel for his fire. He wanted to build a home here, to give his mother access to superior medical care.

"Alright. We appreciate the hard work, Noah."

As they stepped out of the office, Remi sighed. "Noah is such a grinder."

"He is. Having him as a partner is the luckiest break we’ve ever had."

Remi’s eyes suddenly lit up. "Hey, why don't we get him a gift?"

"Sure, but do we even know what he’s into?"

"Oh, come on! Just buy him a car. What man doesn't love a nice ride?"

"Deal. Let’s head back and start shopping."

Once they reached their office, they spent hours glued to the screen, hunting for cars. But the female shopping logic was worlds apart from a man’s: they only cared if the exterior was pretty and if the price tag was within their budget. Performance, horsepower, torque? Irrelevant.

"I can't make heads or tails of these specs," Evangeline groaned, leaning back in her chair, head spinning.

"Me neither," Remi admitted. "When I bought my own car, I didn't research anything. I just picked the prettiest one."

"Forget it. I'll ask Marcellus tonight."

"Evangeline," Remi said, her expression shifting. "You look terrible."

The harsh light of the computer screen cast deep shadows across her face, making her look gaunt, almost frightening. Evangeline offered a reassuring smile. "I've just been skipping meals, that's all. I'm fine."

Remi wasn't buying it. Her worry was written all over her face. "You look sick, Evangeline. We need to get you to an urgent care clinic."

"Fine, fine. Don't worry. I’ll go this afternoon."

"I'm coming with you."

Evangeline didn't have the heart to refuse. After lunch, she squeezed in a short nap, and at 2:00 PM, they headed to the clinic. Under Remi’s strict supervision, Evangeline was dragged through a grueling series of full-body scans and blood tests, running up and down the hospital corridors.

By the time it was over, Evangeline felt like she was going to faint. She collapsed onto a chair, breathless, when suddenly, she felt that familiar rush of heat.

"Evangeline! Your nose!"

Remi panicked, scrambling for a tissue to plug her nostril. "Are you okay? Talk to me!"

Evangeline shook her head weakly. "I'm fine. Helen’s been feeding me way too many herbal supplements. I'm just a bit overheated."

It was supposed to be a routine check-up, but seeing Evangeline’s state, Remi’s composure shattered. Her eyes rimmed with red, her voice trembling. "Evangeline..."

"I'm okay, really."

Evangeline kept replacing the blood-soaked tissue while trying to calm her friend down. But the pile of crimson-stained paper in the wastebasket was terrifying. Remi held back her sobs, but the fear was visible in every shake of her hands.

Two hours later, the results finally arrived. Remi sprinted to the self-service kiosk to pull the report. "Come on, let's go see the doctor."

She dragged a listless Evangeline toward the office.

"The line is out the door," Evangeline murmured.

"Remi, don't rush."

"How can I not rush? I’m terrified! Forget it, I’m calling Damian."

Damian Spencer happened to own this particular clinic, though he rarely saw patients here, preferring the solitude of his lab. Remi made the call, explaining the situation and receiving a promise that he would be there in fifteen minutes.

"Damian said he’s on his way. Let's sit."

Evangeline took Remi’s hand. Remi was so tense that her fingernails were digging deep, painful crescents into her own palm. A wave of warmth—like a hidden hot spring—spread through Evangeline’s chest.

"Remi!"

"Over here!"

Remi jumped up, waving at Damian. He jogged toward them, still catching his breath. "Let me see the report."

He took the sheets, scanning them with a clinical eye. His brow furrowed deeper with every page. The two women held their breath, waiting for the verdict.

"Abnormal hematopoietic stem cells, low bone density... you’re literally starving yourself?" Damian glared at her. "Headaches, fatigue, loss of appetite, muscle soreness?"

Evangeline nodded slowly. "I do feel exhausted."

Damian looked like he was about to lose it. "Do you ever eat?!"

"We picked up a bad habit back in design school. We don't eat until the sketches are finished."

"What? You too?!"

Damian’s voice spiked, and people in the waiting room started staring.

"Keep it down," Remi whispered, looking at him with wide, pleading eyes.

"Evangeline, you are severely anemic and malnourished. You’re showing early signs of osteoporosis. I know you used to dance—if you don't want to snap a bone just from tripping, you need to fix your diet right now."

"It's that bad?"

"It’s critical! This state of mind isn't good for your mental health either. It’s the perfect trigger for a relapse into your previous condition."

Hearing that, Evangeline finally realized the danger. She straightened her posture and gave a firm, solemn nod.

"Oh, and she had a massive nosebleed earlier," Remi added, terrified of leaving out a single detail.

"What have you been eating?" Damian asked, cutting straight to the point.

"A lot of heavy, restorative stews," Evangeline admitted awkwardly.

"Rest, eat on a schedule, and actually take care of yourself. I’m going to send the list of dietary restrictions and a proper supplement plan to Marcellus."

"Understood. Thank you, Damian."