The sterile scent of the sanitizer claws at my senses before I can even pry my eyelids open. My head throbs, a relentless drumbeat against my skull, as I blink against the harsh fluorescent lights.
"Where am I?" I mumble.
"Chloe," a woman's voice says. It's soft, almost hesitant, "You had an allergic reaction and passed out. You're in the hospital."
I open my eyes fully and see a nurse standing in front of me.
My throat feels like sandpaper as I croak out, "What happened?"
"Your husband brought you in. He's been quite worried," she says, checking something off on her chart.
Axel. Memories jostle to the forefront of my mind—dinner, his insistence on setting a romantic dinner for me, the pride in his eyes as he served the meal. A chill snakes down my spine, my heart rate ticking up a n
