Alia asked again, "And his legs... what’s the situation now?"
This was also what Christopher cared about the most at the mont.
Proud as he was, he could endure temporary disability, but if he had to spend the rest of his life in a wheelchair, he feared it would plunge him into a long depression, possibly even making him reassess his relationship with Alia.
Both of them stared intently at the doctor, whose previously calm and friendly deanor visibly shifted into a shadow of concern after Alia’s question.
Their hearts sank along with his expression.
"Doctor, is... is the situation bad?" Alia suppressed the heaviness in her heart and asked again.
"Hmm..." The doctor nodded lightly and sighed. "Though we expected this to so extent, experiencing it first-hand—whether as a patient or as a doctor—is undeniably..."
"Expected it?" Alia couldn’t help interrupting. "What do you an?"
"Yes," the doctor explained in detail, "considering the fact that he fell from the seventh floor, surviving at all is already a miracle. Not becoming a vegetative state and not being confined to bed indefinitely—that alone is fortunate. Now, Mr. Hart’s upper body movent has almost fully recovered, but his legs haven’t regained function yet. Honestly... this is already an excellent outco. From your perspective as family, though, I understand it’s difficult to accept."
Though the doctor’s words were blunt, they were undeniably true.
Alia nodded absentmindedly and lowered her gaze to carefully observe the man’s expression. She wanted to comfort him but felt too embarrassed to say anything overly sentintal in front of the doctor.
Christopher’s face remained somber, and after a mont, he asked, "Does that an... there’s no hope for recovery at all?"
"Not necessarily," the doctor quickly denied, his tone shifting to a more optimistic note. "My team has already designed a rehabilitation plan tailored to your condition. As for whether it will be effective, I can’t guarantee anything... But perhaps another miracle will happen."
The clearly comforting nature of the doctor’s words silenced both of them. They said their goodbyes to the doctor and left.
Inside the elevator, Christopher’s face was calm, but his large hand resting on his lap involuntarily clenched the thin blanket over his legs, his knuckles faintly whitening.
Alia noticed and felt an inexplicable pain in her heart.
For soone as proud as him, if he could never stand again and needed others to care for him for his entire life, it surely would feel worse than death.
But how could she comfort him?
Should she say, "Christopher, it’s okay. I’ll always stay by your side and take care of you."
Would he think she’s pitying him again?
Should she say, "Christopher, you need to keep your spirits up! You’ll definitely get better! Stay strong!"
That would sound so insincere, hollow, and unconvincing.
Sigh...
She mulled over these thoughts left and right, unsure of how to break the silence.
Unexpectedly, as the elevator doors opened and she began pushing the wheelchair, he spoke first, his tone calm and detached: "If I can’t get better, I won’t hold you back."
"Hmm?" His sudden statent, amid the bustling noise of the hospital lobby, left her montarily unable to hear him clearly.
Christopher didn’t repeat himself but continued, "That Kane—didn’t he reject the arranged marriage with his family? You can go to him; he’d definitely be thrilled."
Alia finally understood what he ant. She froze for a mont before scoffing coldly, "Christopher, if you keep talking nonsense, do you believe I’ll shove you down the stairs?"
They had just stepped out of the lobby, and directly in front of them were stairs, with a ramp for disabled access off to the side.
Her threat left him positioned at the top of the stairs, her posture screaming that she might go through with her words if he didn’t take them back.
Christopher turned to look at her, his face filled with surprise, his eyes deep and conflicted.
Just monts ago, when she’d actively asked the doctor about his condition and fell into silence upon hearing about his legs, didn’t that show concern? Even disbelief?
Although he hadn’t expressed it, his heart was in turmoil, believing she saw him as a burden, caught in a moral dilemma.
Their relationship had only just begun to nd, their romance freshly blooming, and now this devastating "news" threatened to tear it all apart. He was hurting more than anyone else.
Still, however painful it might be, he didn’t want to hold her back.
So, while his suggestion stemd partly from resignation, it was also the most rational and sensible course of action.
Their gazes locked. Alia suddenly realized what was happening, her fury fizzled into an exasperated sigh before she turned back to him with fierce determination and said, "I kept quiet earlier because I didn’t know how to comfort you, not because I despise you for becoming disabled! Christopher, do you seriously think I’m soone who can share joy but not endure hardship with you?"
"..." The man swallowed hard, feeling an unanticipated surge of happiness—but also guilt.
Was this yet another breakdown in trust?
Fuller approached as they erged outside.
But upon sensing so tension between the two, Fuller cautiously asked, "Sir, madam... Shall we head back?"
Alia abruptly let go of the wheelchair. "I’m going to the office. Fuller, you can take him ho."
She stord off, and Christopher hurriedly called after her, "How will you get there?"
"Walk!"
What a useless question!
Bus, subway, ride-share—how could she not manage to get there?
Besides, at this mont, she didn’t want to see him at all; she needed space!
Yet, the hospital entrance was notoriously hard to catch a ride. She waited for a while, but every cab was occupied, and her ride-share order showed there were still over ten people ahead of her.
In the anti, the cold front had dropped temperatures significantly, and the biting wind felt like blades against her skin as she stood shivering by the roadside.
Huddling within her coat, she pulled out her phone to check again, and just as she lowered it, a tall and imposing black SUV pulled up in front of her.
"Hop in. Fuller will take you to the office first." The rear door opened, and the man inside stared intensely at her as he spoke.
Alia turned away. "No need, my car’s coming any minute now."
Christopher pressed his lips together before softly apologizing, "I was wrong. I shouldn’t have said such idiotic things."
Finally, she turned back toward him, narrowed her eyes, and strode over.
As soon as the car door shut, Christopher imdiately reached over to clasp her hands. "It’s freezing outside. Your hands must be numb. Let warm them up."
"..." Alia was speechless, unsure what to even say to him.
They sat quietly together for a while. Her hands ward under his clasp, and she eventually pulled them away from his palms.
"Earlier... when your accident had just happened, I said I’d reconsider our relationship once you picked yourself up and recovered. But then the plane crash and everything else happened, and we just..."
She trailed off, her emotions still tangled, unable to articulate clearly, and her expression beca conflicted. "Anyway, the point is, once I’ve made a choice, I don’t change it lightly. What you really need to focus on now is recovering, not spouting nonsense to upset ."
Christopher listened attentively, nodding. "Alright, I’ll follow the doctor’s advice and commit to my rehabilitation."
"Good..." she replied curtly, clearly still annoyed, and was about to continue speaking when Christopher’s phone buzzed.
"Hold on, I need to answer this." He gestured, taking out his phone. "Hello, Benny... Just left the hospital—"
After exchanging a few brief comnts, his expression grew grim, and he repeatedly assured the person on the other end.
Alia observed him and frowned, sensing trouble.
Sure enough, as he hung up, he explained, "Once Fuller drops you off at the office, I’ll need to head there as well—sothing’s co up."
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