Chapter 6

Over the next week, Samuel started coming by more often.

I didn't understand it. As a doctor, Samuel was usually so busy you could barely catch a glimpse of him. I couldn't figure out why he suddenly had so much free time.

Later, I realized that even a doctor's work has its peaks and lulls. For gastroenterology, summer was almost always the busiest season. Once summer passed, things slowed down a bit.

They were still busy, but surgeries didn't have to be scheduled back-to-back.

During the few pockets of free time, Samuel would come over and have meals with me.

"Dr. Stone, does this count as VIP treatment among patients?" I asked.

Three days after the surgery, I was finally able to eat slightly thicker liquids, which was a huge relief.

The first day, when I wasn't allowed to eat or drink anything, had nearly killed me.

I knew glucose and saline would keep my vital signs stable, but the hardest part was psychological.

I constantly felt dehydrated.

When it became unbearable, I could only keep dipping a cotton swab in water and rubbing it over my lips.

Those days were hard to look back on. Only after experiencing them could I understand that the surgery itself wasn't the worst part. The recovery period afterward was far more grueling. For me, even going to the bathroom, brushing my teeth, or pressing the nurse call button felt like monumental tasks.

Without the caregiver Samuel had arranged, I really wouldn't have been able to manage on my own.

"What do you think?" Samuel asked, passing the question to me.

"I think the luckiest part is meeting a doctor as conscientious and responsible as you," I said.

Samuel's expression didn't change. He just said lightly, "Talk less while eating; it's not good for your stomach."

I fell silent.

Even though he didn't show it, I knew my words had unsettled him.

His care for me went far beyond that of a typical doctor toward a patient.

But I didn't dare think too deeply, and I even found myself subconsciously resisting certain possibilities.

I had just come out of a failed marriage and no longer held any bright hopes for love, even if I wasn't completely closed off.

That meal ended on an awkward note.

I watched Samuel walk out silently, lowering my gaze.

By the seventh day after surgery, I was ready to be discharged.

Laparoscopic surgery was easier to recover from than traditional surgery. Hospital beds were in high demand, and many patients were asked to leave within three days.

I ended up staying seven days, which I heard was at Samuel's special request.

He insisted that I not leave earlier than seven days.

I was genuinely grateful to him.

But at the same time, I knew I couldn't keep accepting this kind of special treatment without giving anything in return.

On the day I was discharged, Samuel had three surgeries lined up back-to-back.

I packed a few simple outfits and borrowed 50 thousand dollars from a relatively reliable platform in one go, sending it straight to Samuel.

In the past, I had always thought there was a fallback plan and never considered borrowing from a platform.

But right now, I had no choice.

I couldn't keep relying on Samuel's help.

More importantly, we had known each other for less than two months. I didn't feel right asking him for so much.

After transferring the money, I sent Samuel a message: [Samuel, I'm being discharged. Thank you for all your help. I've sent the money over. It's not enough, but I'll pay the rest gradually once my royalties come in.]

He knew I was writing a novel.

Apart from the day of surgery, when I physically couldn't lift my arms, I hadn't missed a single day of writing.

I remembered the second day after surgery, I was typing away on my laptop when Samuel came in.

The look in his eyes was a mix of indescribable surprises and something I couldn't quite understand.

The first words he said were still burned into my memory.

He didn't tell me to stop writing from a doctor's perspective, nor did he casually chat about the industry.

He first came over to adjust my laptop, making sure it wasn't pressing against my wound. Then he said, "Send me your novel when you finish it."

In twenty-seven years, that was the first time anyone had ever asked to read my work.

I didn't even know how to describe the feeling.

I instinctively felt shy, almost embarrassed. But beyond that, my heart swelled with a joy that I couldn't put into words.

Finally, I shared the link with him. The novel was still ongoing, and I wasn't going to finish it anytime soon.

I thought that would be the end of it, but less than a day later, I received his message:

[It's amazing.] Seeing his words, I finally understood for the first time just how happy recognition from someone else could make you feel.

I stared at my phone, lost in thought for a while.

After sending my own message, I hadn't received a reply. I guessed Samuel was still in surgery.

I forced myself to stop overthinking, locked my phone, and walked out of the hospital alone.

*****

Sometimes, one had to admit that the world was really small.

At the hospital entrance, I saw Eric and couldn't help but sigh.

I had been doing everything I could to avoid him, yet somehow, I always ran into him.

Eric saw me, too.

I had no intention of interacting and planned to leave immediately.

But the moment we passed each other, he grabbed my arm.

Moving hurt my wound, and I didn't want to argue, so I furrowed my brows and snapped coldly, "Let go."

Eric's expression changed slightly. "Lucy, you're really with that doctor now?"

"We're already divorced. Who I'm with is none of your business," I said.

I just wanted to get away from him, but Eric clearly had other ideas.

He stared at me, his tone gritted with anger. "Lucy, so you've been good all along, huh? Already messing around with that jerk, just waiting for an excuse to divorce me?"

"Eric, are you out of your mind? Get this straight. You cheated and got your mistress pregnant. Who's really at fault here, me or you?" I snapped.

Eric didn't seem to think he was in the wrong. "A man cheating isn't a big deal. Do I go hungry or thirsty without you every month? But you take the money I give you to flirt with other men? Lucy, you really have no shame."

That pushed me over the edge. I raised my hand, ready to slap him.

But the movement tugged at my wound.

My arm went weak, and Eric quickly grabbed my wrist.

"What? You still want to slap me?" he said, looking unhinged. "Go on, Lucy. Look at how weak you are. You can't even eat properly without me, huh? The guy you're with isn't doing much for you either, can't even feed you right. Why stay with him? Do you want to reconsider staying with me? I won't marry you again, of course, but I'll still give you an allowance every month."

My eyes burned with anger, but the wound kept me from using any strength.

I had never hated myself more in my life.

I hated that I had been blind before. I hated that I couldn't land a proper punch on him now.

As I braced myself, a figure suddenly flashed by my side.

Then, Eric was really knocked to the ground by a single punch.