Rejected Their Broken Luna Chapter 103: Chap-103*I Don't Want You To Comfort Me.*

**Cynthia Dion: **

"Yeah! He gave it to me when I was feeling cold," I replied, observing him nod and turn his head to the other side. He seemed a bit uncomfortable, but I figured it might be because he was still unwell.

I occupied the passenger seat of the car, glancing at Atticus, who gazed beside me. He appeared pale and weary, and I couldn't help but worry about him. They mentioned he had been poisoned, but I'm certain I had nothing to do with it.

Could it be... there was only one name that crossed my mind, someone who could be wicked enough to do something like this. However, I've never seen him working in the kitchen.

"Are you feeling any better?" I inquired, my voice filled with concern, as he hadn't spoken for quite a while.

"Not really. I just want to get home and lie down," Atticus replied, weakly shaking his head.

"Right! Rest will make you feel better," I commented awkwardly, wondering when he would start talking again.

"Is everything alright?" After another few minutes of silence from Atticus, I had to ask him. He had been looking agitated, and I didn't want to sit in silence without communicating.

Atticus didn't answer right away, staring straight ahead as he drove. At this point, I almost forgot I had asked him something.

"I don't like you wearing his jacket," he finally said, his voice low and tense.

"Why not? I was cold, so he gave me his jacket," I replied, shrugging my shoulders.

"I know," Atticus responded, his eyes briefly flickering over to me before returning to the road. "But I don't like the idea of you wearing another guy's jacket."

I was taken aback by his statement. It's not like I was his official girlfriend, so his jealousy didn't make sense to me.

"What does that even mean? It's just a jacket, Atticus," I asked, feeling bewildered.

"You don't understand. I don't like seeing you wear something that belongs to another guy," Atticus shook his head, gazing out of the window. Maybe it was the medication, but he was acting differently. He seemed more willing to express his emotions.

"Atticus, are you jealous?" I asked, incredulous. My eyes widened as the realization hit me.

Atticus didn't answer, but the look on his face confirmed my suspicion.

"I know that," Atticus said, sounding defensive. "It's not about him. It's about you."

"Atticus, you don't have to feel any sort of way towards me either. Maybe you're forgetting that I'm not your mate anymore. I'm Mr. Holt's wife and mate," I sighed, feeling exasperated. Even calling myself the devil's wife was hard for me.

The tension in the car dissipated as we continued to drive. The agitation was growing with every passing second.

"Right!" he nodded, looking upset.

The rest of the car ride was so silent that I feared he had fallen asleep with his head against the window.

As soon as we pulled up to our driveway, I could tell Atticus was done for. He had been struggling with a fever all night, and the car ride home had only made things worse. I was worried about him, but I tried not to show it. I helped him out of the car, and we slowly made our way to the front door.

Once we stepped inside, I could sense the tension in Atticus' body starting to ease up. He let out a sigh of relief as I guided him to his bedroom and helped him lie down on the bed.

"Thanks, Cyn," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. I felt a shiver run down my spine when he used that nickname for me.

"No problem. I'll go make you some soup," I replied, and I hurried out of the room to avoid lingering with him. Once I had left the room, I took off the jacket and tossed it on the ground. My frustration stemmed from the fact that Enzo had forced a kiss on me.

I rushed into the kitchen, opened the cupboard, and grabbed a large pot.

As I filled it with water and placed it on the stove, I couldn't help but worry about Atticus. I decided to prepare some soup, hoping it would help him feel better.

While I was chopping vegetables, I heard the sound of the doorbell. My heart sank as I realized who it could be--Atticus' friends. I knew they had followed us. I considered ignoring the door, but that would only get me into more trouble.

I took a deep breath, wiped my hands on my apron, and glanced outside the kitchen. Rosalie and Enzo were getting out of their vehicles.

They only wanted to make sure Atticus wasn't spending time with me.

"I'll be in his room," Rosalie called out to Enzo as she headed inside. I didn't attempt to leave the kitchen; it seemed pointless.

As I stirred the soup, I could hear Enzo entering the kitchen. I maintained my posture and pretended I wasn't aware they were here.

"Ehm!" He cleared his throat to alert me to his presence. I rolled my eyes, keeping my focus on the knife in my hand as I carefully shredded the chicken.

"I'm pretty sure I'm not invisible," Enzo chuckled from behind me. "Cynthia!" He then called my name, forcing me to turn around and give him a weary look.

"What do you want?" I asked, gripping the knife firmly in my hand.

"I wanted to thank you," he murmured, and when I didn't catch his drift, he went on to clarify.

"You're looking after him," he said, arching his eyebrow and clicking his tongue before his gaze shifted to the side, where he noticed something on the ground.

"That's an interesting way to show gratitude to someone who's caring for you," the sarcastic expression returned to his face as he spotted his jacket on the ground.

I straightened my posture, realizing that I would have to answer for my actions now.