The Day My Ex Said He Was a Dragon Chapter 11

Andon Hospital.

The person walking toward us in a white coat and metal-framed glasses was none other than my blind date from that day—Sebastian Young.

Seeing me, his gaze shifted away.

When his eyes landed on Ethan's hands, he was full of surprise: "How did this happen?"

Ethan's voice was hoarse: "There was an accident. Please examine her."

The doctor behind Sebastian immediately stepped forward to carefully take the egg, treating it as seriously as any ordinary patient.

Sebastian seemed entirely unsurprised by this egg, and had a kind of inexplicable familiarity with Ethan.

He pointed at Ethan's hands: "You need to be treated."

Ethan followed the nurse to have his wounds dressed.

In the blink of an eye, only Sebastian and I remained.

"Mr. Young."

I vaguely sensed certain things connecting: "Could you explain this to me?"

Sebastian touched his nose and coughed: "I thought he'd already told you."

He—meaning Ethan.

Sebastian said he was also dragon-folk, Ethan's cousin.

The ocean was vast, and little dragon-people didn't keep close contact with each other.

He and Ethan had only recognized each other by chance some time after Ethan came to human society.

Ethan was a simple dragon-person who couldn't keep secrets, so he'd told Sebastian about us too.

When Ethan went back to the ocean, Sebastian had gone to another state for a six-month exchange program.

As soon as he returned, he heard that Mrs. Ashford was arranging dates for me with young talents. He submitted his own profile and immediately sent word to Ethan to hurry back.

No wonder Ethan's timing had been so perfect.

I had one more question: "That egg..."

Didn't you say dragon-people were born as little dragons?

Why was ours so different?

"To be honest, dragon-people aren't exactly conscientious creatures."

Sebastian pushed his glasses: "Offspring born from dragon-people and anyone else are almost always pure dragon-people."

"The more they love someone, the more of the partner's genes the dragon baby will contain. Like Ethan's case."

Sebastian said: "Your child doesn't even have the dragon-person ability to live freely in the ocean. She needs external help to grow and transition for a period."

So Ethan laying an egg wasn't strange or fake.

It was because he loved me so much that we had a child whose human genes overpowered dragon blood.

Throughout millennia, no dragon-person had ever loved a human more than themselves.

Except Ethan.

This big foolish dragon.

And I knew nothing, self-righteously stabbing him with the sharpest blade.

In the hospital room, the doctor had already changed Ethan's bandages.

His chest was wrapped with gauze, his hands also completely bandaged, his clumsy fingers struggling to hold a cup and drink water.

"Ethan."

I proactively took the cup to help him drink.

Ethan's lashes lowered as he silently drank the water, still showing no intention of acknowledging me.

"Ethan, it was my fault. I'm sorry."

Ethan lay back on the bed, habitually trying to burrow under the covers to block out my voice.

But he forgot about his injuries. The large movement pulled at his wounds, making him groan.

I silently covered him with the blanket.

The baby's test results came quickly—she was safe and sound.

Both Ethan and I breathed sighs of relief.

The egg shell barrier had sustained some damage. Sebastian temporarily placed the baby in an ocean healing room.

Ethan needed to stay for observation. This was essentially a hospital for dragon-people, so the medication would be more effective for him.

I postponed work to stay and care for him.

"You should go work."

After eating, Ethan's crimson lips parted slightly, his clear pupils empty of emotion.

As if issuing an eviction order.

"I'll stay here with you."

I reached out to touch his hair as usual, but the person who always naturally leaned in slightly turned away this time.

My fingertips brushed through a strand of soft hair.

This cold Ethan was both strange and familiar.

It was like being transported back to when I'd first brought him home.

At first, he rarely spoke, his reactions a second or two slower than normal people.

He didn't like eating lotus root. His favorite thing was swimming back and forth in the 160-foot pool in the villa garden, rain or shine.

Later, Ethan gradually softened, rolling over like a kitten for me to pet.

I'd almost forgotten he could be this distant.

But it was okay. I would make it up to him properly.

Except this time, Ethan didn't give me that chance.