Chapter 372

"Gauze."

Before Evelyn Roland finished speaking, a roll of pristine white gauze appeared in her line of sight.

She glanced up, meeting Sebastian Valdemar's deep gaze. His slender fingers hovered midair, as if anticipating her every need.

"Thanks." The corners of her lips lifted slightly, faint laugh lines crinkling at the edges of her eyes.

Scarlett Galatea leaned against the headboard, her gaze flickering between them. "Miss Roland, you and Mr. Valdemar work together so seamlessly," she remarked, curiosity lacing her tone.

The air turned brittle.

Evelyn's hands stilled mid-bandage. The cotton swab hovered above the wound, a small stain of antiseptic spreading across the skin.

Sebastian's Adam's apple bobbed.

Silence stretched between them, broken only by the metallic clink of medical instruments.

Scarlett belatedly bit her lower lip. "Are you a doctor, Miss Roland?" she asked abruptly, shifting topics. "With looks like yours, you'd be rare even in the entertainment industry."

Her eyes traced Evelyn's porcelain profile before unconsciously touching her own meticulously maintained cheek.

"Flattery won't help your recovery." Evelyn didn't look up, pressing the cotton ball precisely against the wound with her forceps.

Discomfort rose like a tide. Scarlett gripped the sheets, suddenly aware of her own intrusion. The unspoken understanding between the other two had erected an invisible wall.

A realization stabbed through her. She stared at Evelyn's delicate fingers, her chest tightening.

"What exactly..." Scarlett cut straight to the point, "...is your relationship?"

The forceps clattered into the tray.

Sebastian's attention snapped to Evelyn. He saw her lashes tremble like startled butterfly wings. "Friends," he answered first, his voice rough and unfamiliar.

Scarlett narrowed her eyes. "Just friends?"

She didn't miss how Evelyn's fingers tightened around the gauze at the word, the bandage leaving faint red marks on her fingertips.

"Done." Evelyn stood abruptly, snapping the medical kit shut. Her smile was flawless, but her eyes had frosted over. "No water for three days. Avoid spicy food and seafood."

Scarlett swung her legs, her mood inexplicably lifting. Not a couple, then. She stole a glance at Sebastian's sharp profile, her pulse quickening.

"Mr. Valdemar, what kind of woman do you like?" she ventured boldly. "The gentle type? Or..."

Sebastian lifted his gaze. The look behind his glasses made her shiver. "No type," he said softly. "Just her."

His eyes slid past Scarlett, settling on Evelyn as she organized the instruments. "And," he added, barely above a whisper, "it can only be Evelyn Roland."

Scarlett missed the last part. But she saw Evelyn's back stiffen for a fraction of a second.

"I have rounds." Evelyn picked up the medical kit, her white coat flaring in a clean arc.

Sebastian moved to follow. "I'll walk you."

As the door clicked shut, Scarlett heard the distant rattle of metal instruments. Staring at the ceiling, she suddenly became aware of a dull throb in her wound.

That afternoon, Scarlett left the villa without explanation. No one knew why she changed her mind so abruptly—just as no one saw the crumpled tube of ointment Evelyn had crushed in the examination room.