Chapter 3
Chloe, standing in the doorway, cut in, "Mom, Lina's been at the hospital for three days. She handled the admission, paid the deposit, and stayed with you every night. She only went home this afternoon to change her clothes."
Grace didn't say anything. She just closed her eyes.
Ethan stayed silent for a long time.
Ethan never called me to come to the hospital. He stayed by his mom's side all night, and at seven the next morning, after feeding her some porridge, he finally stood up and walked out of the room.
Out in the hallway, he bumped into John Carter.
"Dr. Hayes, Lina did everything she could to get in touch with you those three days," John said, hesitating. "She called you eighty-nine times. Not a single call got through."
"They took our phones at the symposium," Ethan replied.
John glanced at him but didn't say anything else.
But as John turned away, Ethan caught the look on his face.
It wasn't a look of belief.
That morning, Ethan's sister, Chloe Hayes, showed up.
Chloe was three years younger than Ethan, worked as a planner at an ad agency, and had a quick temper—she talked like firecrackers going off. She'd only found out about Grace's accident last night and drove over from the next city overnight.
"Ethan, how's Mom?" she burst into tears as soon as she walked in, rushing to the bed and grabbing Grace's hand.
Grace patted her. "Don't cry. I'm fine, just missing a leg."
Her light tone only made Chloe cry harder.
After she finished crying, she started pressing for details.
"How did the accident happen? Why was Mom at the market alone? Where was Lina? Isn't she a stay-at-home wife? Couldn't she have gone with Mom?"
Ethan stood by the window, silent.
Grace sighed. "Don't blame Lina. I insisted on going out myself."
"Then why the amputation?" Chloe pressed. "Ethan, you're the top orthopedic surgeon in the city. If you'd been here, could Mom's leg have been saved?"
The room went quiet for three seconds.
"Yes," Ethan said, his voice low. "Her right leg was badly broken and the artery was severed. Had we operated within four hours, there was a decent chance we could have saved it."
"So where were you?" Chloe pressed.
"At the medical symposium. Phones were taken away," Ethan replied.
Chloe looked at him, wiping her tears. "You're the best orthopedic doctor in the city. Your mother needed you to sign for emergency surgery after a comminuted fracture, and you were off at some symposium? No one could reach you the whole day?"
"Three days," I said from the doorway.
I walked into the room carrying a pot of Slow-Cooked Pork Stew. Chloe turned to look at me, and Ethan did too.
"Not one day—three days," I said, setting the stew on the bedside table and lifting the lid. The smell of pork spread through the room.
"I called you eighty-nine times. Not a single call got through. I sent sixteen messages—none got a reply. I contacted your hospital office, your department, the academic office, your colleagues. Nobody knew anything about this medical symposium."
I picked up a spoon, blew on the stew to cool it, and brought it to Grace's lips.
"Mom, have some stew. The pork's been simmering for two hours—it's falling apart."
Grace opened her mouth and took a sip.
I didn't look at Ethan, but I could feel his eyes locked on me.
Chloe's expression shifted several times before she finally looked at Ethan. "Ethan, where did you actually go?"
"I told you, the medical symposium," Ethan said, his voice hard. "Believe it or not, whatever."
He turned and walked out of the room.
Chloe tried to follow, but I stopped her.
"Don't chase him. The stew will get cold," I said.
I kept feeding Grace the stew. She looked at me, her lips moved like she wanted to say something, but in the end, she just squeezed my hand.
That afternoon, Ethan's relatives started pouring in.
Uncle Edward's family, Uncle Henry's family, cousins from out of town, even Ethan's old high school buddies—they all showed up. The hallway outside the ICU was packed.
I was busy pouring water, grabbing chairs, and giving everyone the rundown on Grace's condition. All the test reports, meds, and doctor's notes from the past three days—I had them sorted, and I remembered every word the doctor said.
Uncle Edward grabbed Ethan's hand and let out a heavy sigh. "Ethan, your mom's had it rough. She raised you and Chloe all by herself, and now she's lost her leg. You're the Chief of orthopedics—can't you figure something out? Get her the best prosthetic money can buy?"
Ethan nodded. "I'll make sure she gets the best prosthetic there is."
"So what really happened?" Aunt Clara cut in, glancing at me. "Lina was at home—how could you let her go out alone?"
"Aunt Clara, Mom insisted on going herself. I offered, but she wouldn't let me," I explained.
"So you just let her go? You always do whatever she says? If she says no, you just don't go? Do you even care about us?" Aunt Clara's voice got louder.
I clenched the cup in my hand.