Time-Limited Love: A Contract Expired, Not Renewed novel Chapter 98

His voice was hoarse as he searched for something—anything—to say.

Zinnia kept her eyes glued to the road ahead, unmoved by his attempt at conversation. When Landon suddenly broke the silence, she paused for a moment before responding, “I just know the area well, that’s all.”

She didn't spare him a glance, nor did she have the slightest interest in making small talk with Landon.

But Landon, undeterred, seemed oddly enthusiastic about chatting, grasping for any excuse to keep the conversation going. “Since you know how to drive, how come I’ve never seen you drive to work?”

Zinnia’s focus never wavered from the street, her tone flat. “It’s easier to take the subway.”

Sensing Landon was about to say more, Zinnia cut him off before he could continue. “Save your strength. Don’t talk.”

Whatever Landon was about to say died on his lips. He opened his mouth, his eyes reflecting a hint of wounded disappointment, but in the end, said nothing more.

He could hear the impatience in Zinnia’s voice when she brushed him off just now.

Veridian University Medical Center.

Zinnia pulled the car into a parking spot, then walked around to the other side to open Landon’s door for him. “Can you walk on your own?”

The last thing she wanted was to support Landon in that all-too-intimate way again.

Landon swung his long legs out of the car and looked up at her, his expression vulnerable and pitiful. “I think I can manage.”

He tried to take a few steps but suddenly staggered, nearly falling forward.

On instinct, Zinnia reached out and caught him before he could hit the ground.

Landon looked down at her, his pale face tinged with embarrassment. “Am I being a burden to you?”

“Yeah,” she replied without hesitation.

Landon fell silent, lips pressed together.

“Let’s go inside.”

There was nothing else for it—Zinnia had to haul Landon’s weight, supporting him as they made their way to the emergency room.

The ER at Veridian University Medical Center was always a madhouse, and with flu season in full swing, the waiting area was packed to capacity. Even the benches outside the trauma unit were overflowing with patients.

“Sit here,” Zinnia said, easing Landon onto a seat in the crowded waiting area before heading to the trauma desk.

She was back within a few minutes. “There’s a huge line. I’ll take care of your wound myself.”

“Okay,” Landon agreed quietly.

She led him to a treatment room, gathering saline, antiseptic, and a suture kit.

Carefully, Zinnia took the scissors and began to cut away the blood-soaked bandages on Landon’s hand.

He inhaled sharply, a quiet hiss of pain escaping him. Zinnia’s hand paused, and she glanced up to find those plaintive eyes fixed on her.

She frowned. “Does it hurt a lot?”

Landon nodded immediately.

“Bear with it.”

Her answer was as flat as ever, and she didn’t seem interested in continuing the conversation.

She set out the suture kit and pulled Landon’s hand toward her. “I’m going to stitch you up now. Try not to move.”

Landon didn’t argue.

He knew she didn’t need his cooperation, as long as he didn’t get in her way.

Zinnia was quick and precise, her suturing neat and efficient.

It was the second time Landon had ever seen her like this—at work, up close, completely absorbed.

She worked with her head bowed, profile calm and focused, yet with a cool detachment that made it seem like any closeness would be an intrusion.

His wound was long and deep, even slicing into the underlying tissue, which meant Zinnia had to suture it layer by layer—a painstaking and exhausting process.

“Why haven’t you asked how I hurt my hand?”

Landon had been waiting for her to bring it up—from the moment they left Royal Bay to now, he’d hoped she’d show some curiosity. But Zinnia had remained distant, never once asking.

Finally, he couldn’t help himself.

Zinnia’s hands paused for a brief moment.

She wanted to say it wasn’t her business, that she didn’t care to know. But she realized that would sound more like she was sulking, and Landon would only overthink it.

So she played along, asking in a casual, almost perfunctory tone, “Oh? How did it happen?”