In the days that followed, Claire Hale and Tristan Lockwood had no contact at all.
Occasionally, while she was strolling downstairs at the inpatient departnt, she’d see him walking with Jade Sutton. She would then slowly shift her direction with her crutch to keep away from them.
Tristan would sotis glance at her, but as soon as his gaze landed on her, she’d look away to avoid it.
After enough tis, the two of them beca like strangers.
Even when they ran into each other at the hospital, they ignored each other.
On the day of discharge, Tina Hayes handled the formalities for Claire Hale and said, "President Hale, I’ve drafted the divorce agreent, but you’ll need to go over the specifics yourself."
"Okay, send the electronic version."
Although she didn’t need her crutch anymore, Claire’s right foot was still not very flexible, making her walk slowly, and she couldn’t drive. Tina supported her to the parking lot.
Claire glanced at the BYD in front of her and casually said, "Where’s your Mi?"
"Returned it."
Tina helped her into the car before sitting herself in the driver’s seat.
"Nathan Quinn isn’t short on money for a car. He hurt you, so compensating you is only right."
"There’s no question of being hurt."
Tina laughed indifferently.
"Isn’t it just about having a fallout after a night together? It’s not like it cost a limb. Everyone’s an adult, we all know what we’re doing. I don’t need his pity."
Claire said no more and, looking out the car window, saw Tristan Lockwood guarding Jade Sutton’s head as he helped her into his Audi A8L.
She shifted her gaze away indifferently, looking emotionless at the road ahead.
"Let’s go."
After returning ho, Claire Hale revised the divorce agreent carefully in her room before printing it out.
The printer was downstairs, so she went down, grabbed the agreent, and heard noises coming from the entrance.
Claire glanced casually over as Tristan Lockwood walked in, looking worn.
"Made sure Jade Sutton got ho safely?"
She asked nonchalantly.
Tristan frowned, "Were you following again?"
"If this broken leg could keep up with your four rings, I’d ascend to heaven."
She raised her eyebrows lightly, appearing calm and unruffled.
Tristan noticed that she was exceptionally calm today, contrary to her usual sarcastic tone.
His gaze fell on her foot, and he asked, "Your foot hasn’t healed completely. How did you drive back yourself?"
"I had no choice. My husband was busy sending another woman, so I had to fend for myself."
Claire looked at him with feigned grievance and even smiled slightly, looking a bit helpless.
Tristan was silent for a mont and said, "She could get into trouble being alone, I couldn’t just ignore her."
"Yes, I know."
Claire nodded, thoughtfully poured a glass of water, and handed it to him.
Tristan gave her a look and reached out to take it.
When their fingertips touched, Claire felt a frightening heat flash by. She then took two steps forward and pressed her forehead to his.
"You have a fever."
Tristan didn’t care much and said lightly, "Been too tired lately."
Claire found so fever dicine at ho and said, "You sure are busy, doing surgeries for patients, attending academic conferences, and can’t neglect Jade Sutton either. Handling more won, no wonder you’re busy."
"..."
Tristan leaned weakly on the sofa, and when she handed over the dicine, he grabbed her hand and pulled her into his arms.
He was feverish and weak, and Claire felt that even a light struggle could free her.
"I’m sick, and you’re still picking on ?" Tristan looked down at her in his arms, "Want to anger to death?"
"No."
Claire quietly pulled away from his arms, walked to the dining table, and handed Tristan the divorce agreent she had just printed, saying, "I was planning to give you a surprise."
The words "Divorce Agreent" stabbed right into Tristan’s eyes.
"What ga are you playing now?"
Tristan frowned, didn’t even glance at the agreent, and threw it to the ground.
He was feverish, had little strength, and the paper fluttered down everywhere.
Claire stared at him for two seconds, calmly picked up the pages one by one, and placed them again on the coffee table before him.
She looked at him indifferently, smiling a bit, "If you really think I’m playing tricks, then think I’m trying to take advantage of you while you’re feverish and confused to get you to sign quickly and give more property."
After saying that, she extended her hand to him.
"Let help you to the bedroom to rest. When you feel better in a few days, you can move out."
"Move out? Why should I move out?"
Tristan’s face was extrely grim.
He was already feverish, and when angry, his face turned as pale as a ghost.
"You forgot, the house was bought by my grandparents for before we got married. The title deed is only in my na, it’s my premarital property. You have no part in it."
She helped him to the bed, looked down and smiled at him, "But if you want to keep living here, you can. Just rember to pay the rent, a million a month."
"Claire, Hale."
Tristan gritted his teeth, calling her na deliberately slowly.
Claire remained unaffected, "You didn’t want to buy a marital ho back then, so I brought out this house for us to live in together. Now that we’re divorcing, you’re not my husband anymore, so you can’t live here. Otherwise, it would be awkward when I bring back a boyfriend in the future."
"You haven’t even divorced and you’re thinking of finding a boyfriend? Claire Hale, are you provoking ?"
"You haven’t divorced and already found so many won. I didn’t even say anything."
"You asked for money."
Tristan stared sinisterly at her.
Claire said, "So after I’m divorced and find a man, you can’t ask for money."
"..."
Seeing her calm as a breeze, seemingly not caring about divorcing him, Tristan gritted his teeth and said weakly:
"I haven’t agreed to divorce yet. You think you can marry when you want, divorce when you want, do you think I’m a wish-granting tree, making any wish co true?"
"But haven’t you always wanted a divorce?"
Claire looked at him with confusion.
Tristan wanted to say more, but as soon as he opened his mouth, he suddenly broke into a violent cough, tearing and heart-wrenching, sounding quite tragic.
Claire handed him a glass of water, patted his back, and comforted him kindly, "Get so rest. My foot’s not good right now, if you still haven’t recovered by tomorrow morning, you’ll have to head to the hospital yourself."
The next morning, Claire woke up to see Tristan’s door was tightly shut. She pushed it open to find him lying just as he was the night before, with a thermoter still on the bedside table.
She went over to take a look, 39 degrees—his fever was worse than last night.
"Want to call an ambulance for you?"
Claire asked.
Tristan slowly opened his eyes, and when she looked, his eyes were unfocused, clearly burned out.
But from between his teeth, Tristan squeezed out a few words, "Stay with ."
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