The stomach flushing process took nearly an hour. Charlotte Thompson sat on the bench in the hallway dazedly, her eyes fixed unblinkingly on the lit light outside the operating room as though she was subjected to a silent, lingering torture.
She didn’t know how much time had passed, when the light outside the operating room suddenly went out, then the door opened.
Charlotte’s eyes flashed with confusion. A moment later, she hastily stood up seeing Justin Battleson being wheeled into a ward by a nurse. Her heart, hung in the air, finally settled.
She approached. The doctor was removing his mask. Seeing her, he straightened up and explained, "The patient is no longer in any immediate danger, but he cannot eat for a few days and needs to stay in hospital."
At his words, Charlotte breathed a sigh of relief. After thanking the doctor, she headed straight for the ward.
The usually cold and distant man seemed to have softened a little. His face was pale as paper, his lips tightly shuttered, like he was silently enduring something.
Charlotte approached the bedside softly, each step feeling like treading on her own heart.
It wasn’t until she sat down that it dawned on her. Even someone like Justin Battleson had his vulnerable moments.
It was now the middle of the night. After all the chaos, Charlotte had no intention to sleep; she just felt endless fatigue. A light, chilly breeze wafted in from the window. With her hand cupping her cheek, she gazed at Justin Battleson, whose sleeping eyes seemed softer than usual.
She had no idea when everything had changed so much.
The Charlotte of five years ago seemed like a different person. And Justin Battleson, too, wasn’t the same as he was five years ago.
He looked both similar and different. Latest content published on novel_fіre.net
Five years ago, he was full of life. With an intimidating aura, yet now and then, he would look at her seriously and call her "young lady".
Now, this man was lying quietly on the hospital bed, his brow slightly furrowed even in sleep.
No one knew better than Charlotte how much she detested Justin Battleson after that reckless and absurd night five years ago. She had even despised him.
Yet, things seemed to have strayed off course, step by step.
Gazing at the man’s face, a masterpiece as if created by God, Charlotte was somewhat puzzled about herself.
She couldn’t be as confident as before.
Watching Justin’s face quietly, Charlotte spent almost the entire night without sleep.
The next day, the sun rose as usual, beautiful like a newborn.
Half-squinting, controlling the sourness in her eyes, Charlotte stretched uncomfortably. As she lowered her gaze, her eyes met Justin’s, silently.
The latter’s face was still pale as a ghost but at the sight of her, a glimmer of child-like joy lit up in his eyes.
He opened his mouth, his voice raspy, "Did you not sleep all night?"
Charlotte was slightly stunned. At the same time, a flash of pain flickered in her eyes. She stood up, suppressing the tremble in her voice. Her words were blunt.
"Justin Battleson, are you still a child? Surely, you must know you’re allergic to crayfish?"
Hearing this, Justin didn’t rebut. He seemed to have anticipated her accusation and simply, with a pale face, nodded.
Charlotte was infuriated. Raising her voice slightly, she snapped, "Are you an idiot? You knew and still ate it. Do you have a death wish?"
At the end of her words, Justin Battleson coughed weakly. The sound of his cough jolted Charlotte back to reality. She bent down anxiously and adjusted his blanket, her voice a little frantic.