“You should be too.”
“I’m not the one who almost died.”
His jaw tightens.
“Neither are you.”
That hits.
Harder than it should.
Because he’s right.
I shouldn’t even be standing here.
I shouldn’t have been able to push through that.
I shouldn’t—
“I’m fine,” I say.
The words come out too sharp.
Too fast.
He notices.
Of course he does.
“Right,” he says quietly.
Not believing me.
Not even a little.
“Drop it,” I add.
He doesn’t.
Of course he doesn’t.
“That how this works with you?” he asks. “You tell everyone they’re not fine—but you are?”
My chest tightens.
Annoyance flares.
Hot and immediate.
“I’m not your patient,” I snap.
“No,” he agrees. “You’re not.”
Another beat.
Then—
“So stop acting like I’m yours.”
