My Cold-Hearted Husband Wants Me Back

The knock was so soft Eryx barely heard it. He opened the door anyway, and there stood the same doctor from months ago, the timid one who’d nearly dropped his stethoscope just by meeting Eryx’s eyes.

"Evening," the doctor greeted, eyes flicking nervously to Eryx’s face, then the open suite behind him. "I came as soon as I got the call."

Eryx stepped aside. "She’s in the kitchen. Wrapped in a blanket. Said she’s hot, fell over twice, and might’ve taken a painkiller before drinking half a bottle of wine." He pointed to the offending bottle on the table. "No, she’s not drugged."

The doctor paused in the middle of setting his bag down. "Right. Thank you."

Lunara was still perched on the stool, now humming to herself like she was waiting for a bedtime story. She gave the doctor a lazy wave. "Oh, it’s you! Hello, doctor."

He blinked. "Uh... good evening, madam."

She tilted her head. "You’re very small today."

The doctor smiled tightly, clearly unsure how to respond.

"She’s usually more coherent than this," Eryx said, leaning against the counter, arms crossed. "Just check if she’s okay."

"Yes, of course." The doctor approached carefully, like Lunara might leap off the stool. "Any dizziness?"

She held up one finger, eyes half-closed. "Only when I blink too fast."