“Didn’t you see Noelle just fainted? Were you really about to just walk away? Is this what you call compassion, Doctor?”
Zinnia caught the coldness in Landon’s eyes, and for a moment, a sharp pain lanced through her chest—like being pricked unexpectedly by a needle.
She’d thought she could face Landon with perfect composure now, that nothing he said or did could stir her emotions anymore. But hearing his reckless accusations, each word stabbed at her heart with a thousand tiny thorns.
She couldn’t help feeling relieved she hadn’t exposed Noelle’s act just now. If she had, Landon’s words would have surely cut even deeper.
She drew a steadying breath, forcing her voice not to tremble, and gestured at the building in front of them.
“That’s the emergency wing right there. In the time you’ve spent blaming me, you could’ve carried her inside to see a doctor.”
Her gaze was calm, almost chillingly so—unmoved, unflinching. She didn’t bother defending herself from Landon’s harsh words. She just looked at him, eyes cool and steady, and that unnerving composure made Landon feel as if Zinnia had slipped even further away from him.
A wave of unease rippled through him. Suddenly, he realized how irrational he’d sounded just moments ago. He knew he always overreacted whenever Noelle’s illness flared up. Even though he was well aware that Zinnia had done nothing wrong.
“Zinnia, I—”
“Go inside,” she cut him off, her tone mild but distant. Without another word or even a backward glance, she turned and walked toward the surgical wing.
Landon watched her retreating figure, pressing his lips together, before finally lifting Noelle into his arms and heading for the emergency entrance.

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