Chasing His Kickass Luna Back

Chapter 0222

“I just can’t believe this is happening,” I say, my voice breaking a little. “This is like some sort of

nightmare.”

“Yeah, it is,” Anton agrees, the exhaustion evident in his voice. “The timing couldn’t be worse.”

The timing is beyond terrible; it’s catastrophic. I close my eyes for a moment, taking in the sounds

around me—the muffled chatter of people on their morning commute, the distant laughter of a group of

teenagers on the way to school, the soft cooing of a baby.

Life is moving on, unfazed by my little disaster. I wish I could say the same for myself. Because right

now, I feel like I’m trapped in a motionless void of suffering.

“Well… you need to rest, Anton,” I finally say, resigned. “Focus on getting better. This... this is just one

of those things. Bad luck, or fate, or whatever you want to call it.”

“Yeah, bad luck doesn’t even begin to cover it,” Anton mutters. Exclusive © material by Nô(/v)elDrama.Org.

“Alright,” I say, swallowing. “Get better, Anton. See you.”

As I hover my thumb over the red ‘end call’ button on my phone, a thought suddenly strikes me. “Wait,

Anton, how come I’m not sick? I ate the same food everyone else did, right?”

“You didn’t eat the seafood dish, did you?” Anton’s voice has a trace of realization in it.

“Seafood dish?” I think back to last night. “Oh right, the one with shellfish. No, I didn’t. I’m allergic.”

Anton’s voice tenses. “That must be it, Abby. That has to be the dish that got us sick. Someone should

check on everyone who ate that.”

A wave of dread washes over me. “Do you think everyone else is sick?”

“Now, let us not panic yet,” Anton counters, coughing a little. “I’ll send a group text. To check if anyone

else is feeling ill.”

“You don’t have to do that, Anton. You’re sick.”

“It’s the least I can do, Abby, especially since I cannot be your sous chef. You’re screwed, aren’t you?”

Anton’s voice is filled with guilt.

“Pretty much, yeah,” I admit, forcing a laugh. “But it’s not your fault. Get better, okay?”

“Will do. Good luck finding someone.”

I finally press the ‘end call’ button and stand here for a moment, shaking. Then, it finally comes out.

“Shit!” I yell, chucking my coffee and croissant into the nearest trash can with as much force as my arm

can muster. I ignore the puzzled looks from commuters walking by as I huff angrily, gripping my hair. It

feels as if the universe is playing some sort of cruel joke on me, and I’m not amused.

I pace back and forth for a few moments, thinking about who might not be sick. But then, my phone

starts to buzz. Group texts start rolling in.

Ethan: “Feeling like crap. Threw up twice this morning.”

Chloe: “Same here. I’ve never felt so sick.”

Leah: “I can barely get out of bed. What happened last night?”

For a moment, I almost consider throwing in the towel and pulling out of the competition, like it’s a sign

from the universe. New chąpter avąilable oո

Karl.