Why the Crocodile Tears (by Flower Sock) novel Chapter 474

Chapter 474

Louie’s brows furrowed whom he med feels’s toksine faze “Don fa street about their health out of profesional hati

“Goodness, you must be an angel then, Dr. Anderson conser, but my personal life is none of won busifince

As she spoke, the closed the distance between them and twid o rim of Louie’s paper cup, letting the ashes fall into his drink.

“Giselle!” Louie scowled.

dorinta selli sed alignque we muere en flus

Ned, tar pretty face a mark of indifference “Taggretate your

between alemdar fingers dhe rapped it againer the

“You said I couldn’t smoke in public. It’s not like I can toss a cigarete but anywhere I like, and there’s on trash can around hetn

Giselle’s red lips curled “I have no choice but to throw it into your

To make her point, she dropped the remainder of her cigarette into Lane’s paper cup. “Thanks a bunch, Dr. Anderson

She strolled away after that, her gait graceful and unhurried. The sharp ends of her stilettos clarked against the marble floor in a steady rhythm.

Louie watched as Giselle’s slender figure disappeared into the distance, his frown deepening in the end, he stormed back to the room and tossed his cup into the trash. Even then, he couldn’t regain his composure.

He couldn’t stop the prickling sensation in his eyes, and his vision clouded with tears. He pinched the space between his brows He had no idea what was wrong with him. “Damn it…”

Before he and Giselle broke up, he thought he didn’t cry easily. If anything, the usually ice–cold Giselle was much more of a crybaby than he was.

But whenever they ran into each other after they’d ended things, she didn’t even shed a tear, and her tongue was sharp enough

to draw blood.

As for Louie, he was always seized with the urge to cry whenever he saw her.

What the hell was going on?

Louie couldn’t think of an explanation. He whipped out his phone and urged his colleague, an ophthalmologist, to send him the

results of his eye test.

Perhaps all those long, complicated, and demanding surgeries had wrecked his eyesight. Maybe his tear ducts were affected by some strange condition.

Alas, the ophthalmologist’s conclusion was brief and simple. There was nothing wrong with Louie’s eyes at all, and he should

see a psychiatrist.

“A psychiatrist?” Louie was affronted. “There’s nothing wrong with my mental health, damn you!”

He let out a breath and turned off his phone.

However, the more he dwelt on the matter, the more frustrated he became. He marched to the couch and grabbed the box of cigarettes on the coffee table.

He had only just ripped the packaging open and tipped out a cigarette when he heard a crisp and sardonic, “Are you sure you want to expose your patient to second–hand smoke, Dr. Anderson?

Louie stiffened, and only then did he recall that Gregory shouldn’t be breathing in second–hand smoke in his condition. As such, he shoved the cigarette back into the box and helped himself to another glass of water. He threw back the drink.

“You might want to pace yourself with the water, man. You don’t want to bloat up like a pufferfish tomorrow morning,” Gregory pointed out.

Chapter 474

“Aren’t you feeling well? You should be asleep,” Louie grumbled shooting tregory a dirty took

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“I was going to sleep, but then heard your voice.” Gregory shopped. He glanced at Fonde and raised a brow “Why are your eyez so red? Are you on the verge of tears again?

A lump formed in Louie’s throat. He raised his voice. “My eyes are sensitive after I stand out in the damn bresse all night, okay?

His stiff tone betrayed him.

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