Chapter 3

I had gone over our first meeting countless times. Sheila stopped me as I walked by with a stack of books and asked with a smile, "Can we get to know each other?"

Sheila was bathed in the sunlight at that moment, making her look like someone who had walked straight out of a dream.

I thought fate was finally favoring me back then, but now I realized that my seven years were nothing more than a complete joke.

Someone asked, "Do you regret it, then, Sheila?"

Those in the private room instantly fell silent.

I held my breath. I was still anticipating Sheila's answer, even though it had come to this. I was waiting for her to say she didn't regret it and that she really had fallen for me in the end.

Sheila remained silent for a long time, so long that my palms were gradually covered in cold sweat. She never answered that question.

I actually hoped she would lie to me just once at that moment, even if it were just to fool me. Sheila remained silent throughout, though. I realized then that some answers were far more cruel when left unsaid.

Just then, a cup was knocked over in the private room, and Jeremy drew in a sharp breath. "Ouch! That's hot!"

Sheila got to her feet immediately and yanked open the door to the private room. She supported Jeremy as they hurried out, only to find me standing in the doorway.

I instinctively stepped aside, but my right hand hit the metal edge of the doorframe hard, causing a sharp sting to flare up in my old injury. It was the hand I held my scalpel with and also the hand that had almost been ruined seven years earlier while saving Sheila. It felt as if the wound had been ripped open again.

Sheila looked down at me and frowned. "Why are you standing by the door, Christian?"

I couldn't keep my voice steady because of the pain. I instinctively grabbed my right wrist and said, "Sheila, my hand—"

I hadn't even finished speaking when Jeremy inhaled sharply again.

Sheila's attention shifted immediately, panic written all over her face. "I'll be taking Jeremy to the hospital first, Christian. You should just head home on your own. You only bumped into your hand, so it'll be fine once you ice it at home."

I grabbed her sleeve, my fingers trembling slightly. "I can't afford to injure my right hand again, Sheila. I—"

I hadn't even finished speaking when Sheila withdrew her arm and hurried away. I caught Jeremy looking back at me the moment he walked past. I saw no remorse in his eyes, only a fleeting look of triumph.

I sat on the cold floor of the hallway, watching their figures grow farther away. I felt my right hand gradually growing numb as blood slowly seeped from the reopened old wound.

I ended up going to the hospital anyway, and the doctor on duty happened to be a senior colleague from my department.

He took a look at the scans, his expression instantly hardening. "You reopened your old wound, and the nerve is affected as well. You can't afford another injury. You should come straight to the hospital if you feel any pain."

He then stated softly, "You use that hand to perform surgery, Christian. You know that, right?"

He looked past me down the empty hallway and asked, "Isn't your family here with you?"

I remained silent for a long time before replying softly, "I don't have any…"

I suddenly found the whole thing utterly absurd. I technically had someone at home who was about to become my wife, but I couldn't even get her to be here to sign the hospital forms for me.