At first glance, Patrick still looked completely calm. But I had already sensed trouble.

I could see his grip on the ballpoint pen tightening until his knuckles turned white. Even the pen tip had bent at an absurd angle, the pressure tearing through three sheets of paper.

Come on, man. That was my medical chart, not a murder list!

"Could she be pregnant?" my mom asked, sounding almost thrilled.

Without missing a beat, I shot to my feet. "Actually, I think I'm fine now. I swear it feels like my period's about to start any second."

With how possessive Patrick was, I knew I'd be doomed if I stayed a second longer.

But my mom shoved me right back into the chair. "Don't be ridiculous! Do you know how hard it was to get this appointment? Now that we're here, tell Dr. Hayes whatever's bothering you."

At that moment, I was on edge in every possible way.

Patrick finally softened his voice and said, "Valerie might be a little embarrassed with you here."

Suddenly, my mom got the hint. As she headed out, she muttered, "What's there to be shy about? I've seen everything there is to see."

If only she knew what kind of man Patrick was. He may have looked respectable, but he was an absolute menace in bed!

If this were a movie, my life would've landed squarely in the disaster genre. And right now, I deserved a dramatic close-up.

I watched the exam room door slowly swing shut behind my mom. In my eyes, it might as well have been a guillotine dropping.

With our only audience finally gone, Patrick dropped the act altogether and set down the pen.

The emotionally detached, self-controlled doctor pushed up his silver-rimmed glasses before letting out a sneer.

"You truly are something, Valerie. Who's the father? It's only been two months since we broke up, and you're already pregnant. The person who texted me wasn't lying. You really are easy…"

Patrick paused for a beat. Then, in an icy voice, he added, "Forget it. From here on out, you live your life, and I live mine. You're here for a checkup, that's all. Whatever's going on with you isn't my problem."

I was completely lost. What text? And what did he mean by I was easy? Had he fallen for some phishing scam?

God knew I had always been nothing but loyal to Patrick. Sure, before I met him, I had been a little wild.

In fact, our first meeting wasn't romantic, touching, or exciting.

That night, after finally meeting a client deadline, I called up a few friends and planned to go check out some male strippers. But our stupid navigation app glitched and led us to an upscale bar instead.

We barely glanced at the sign before going in.

The bar was classy, but my taste was down-to-earth. After scanning the menu, I ended up ordering a whole bucket of soda.

As luck would have it, Patrick was one of the bar's investors, and he happened to be there that night. When he brought our drinks over, he even reminded me, "Go easy on the soda and alcohol combo. Too much of it will make your heart race."

My friends had me drinking like crazy, and by then, I was totally woozy. So, when I saw a handsome guy standing in front of me, I immediately grabbed his hand and blurted, "What the hell! This place hires some good-looking escorts!

"How much for a night? Damn! Look at his hands and abs! What an outstanding man!"

I was too drunk to remember, but according to my friends, I didn't just grope Patrick. I even tried to grab his waist and plant a kiss on him.

Back then, they were so mortified that they wished the ground would swallow them. They even acted like they didn't know me, their embarrassing country bumpkin of a friend.

When I sobered up the next morning and learned what I had done, I wanted to die of embarrassment too.

But I was totally captivated by Patrick. So, I shamelessly went back to the bar to corner him. Though I claimed I was there to apologize, I couldn't help tugging at his sleeve and eyeing his chest.

After showing up ten days in a row, Patrick finally snapped. He pinned me in a corner and asked, "Valerie, are you here to apologize or just to get handsy?"

I let out a chuckle in response.

Later, he laid down his conditions. "If you want to be with me, you can't hire male escorts anymore. And no more checking out other guys. Can you handle that?"

"Of course! From now on, my heart is all yours," I had sworn.

In truth, the first time I met him was also the first time I'd ever tried hiring a male escort. I was only doing it for the thrill. It was something new to me, after all.

However, I ran into Patrick by sheer chance. He was my dream guy, and from that moment on, no one else caught my attention.

I was the one who spat the harsh words during our breakup, but it was he who initiated it. He claimed he was too busy at the hospital and didn't have enough time for me. He even said he didn't want to hold me back.

What kind of crappy excuse was that?

Of course, I had to talk tough. Even if I lost, I had to do it in style.

Yet somehow, I had turned into the promiscuous one. On top of that, it had something to do with texts. There had to be more to the story.

I hadn't gone looking for Patrick these past two months because I wanted freedom.

It was only after we started dating that he told me he was actually a doctor. The biggest problem with having a doctor for a boyfriend was that he tried to micromanage everything.

While other couples strolled the mall, holding hands and sipping iced beverages on hot days, Patrick would stop me.

He'd say cold drinks in this heat were bad for my lungs and overall health. Then, he'd hand me a cup of herbal tea.

Whenever I ordered takeout, I went straight for spicy food, like Cajun boil or barbecue skewers. Patrick would go into full-on medical mode, breaking down exactly how much each dish would increase my risk for every disease. I'd panic and cancel my order on the spot.

So, when he suggested we break up, I was confused. But at the same time, I felt free. I could finally indulge in fried food, late-night snacks, ice-cold beer, and every guilty pleasure I could think of.

Moreover, I no longer had to pinch my nose and choke down all those health drinks his hospital had developed.

The harsh words I had spat at Patrick were just for show. I didn't want him to catch me staying up all night, devouring street food.

For the past two months, I had been posting emo posts on social media every day. I'd even share sad ballads.

But in reality, without Patrick controlling me, I did whatever I pleased.

I had eaten my way through every meal available in my neighborhood, wolfing down ice-cold drinks, steaming hot comfort food, and all sorts of indulgent junk.

I also stayed up late almost every night, and before long, I landed myself in the hospital.

My plan had been to eat my fill before shamelessly asking Patrick to take me back. Yet, as fate would have it, I ran into him here first.

Honestly, if I had known I'd run into my ex, there was no way I'd have worn these ridiculous cartoon underwear.

The cartoon's big eyes were plastered across my chest, making me look utterly silly. But that was exactly the quirky style I was going for.

However, I always dressed to the nines whenever I met Patrick, doing everything to make sure he couldn't take his eyes off me. Lace, silk that clung to my curves, rhinestone-studded thongs—if it was suggestive, I'd wear it.

If he were to find out that this was the kind of thing I really liked, I'd never live it down.