Rebirth Into My Second Chance

He furrowed his brows.© 2024 Nôv/el/Dram/a.Org.

I couldn't help but give a slight smile. I was deliberately teasing Max.

"Why are you up? You've got a fever. Here, take this fever reducer," I said as I handed him the medicine.

He grunted, took the medicine, and washed it down with water. Then, he lowered his head back to the pile of documents he was scrutinizing.

Right on cue, my stomach growled. "Dr. Hilton, aren't you hungry?"

He looked up at me. "Let's eat together."

I snapped back to reality and pointed at the lunchbox. "My folks sent me some food. You should have some, too!"

I turned to see another lunchbox on the table, which hadn't been there before.

He cleared his throat. "That's from Ronald."

"Oh," I said, realizing Ronald had sent it.

I chatted, "Dr. Hilton, what about your family? Don't they send you meals?"

"No," he replied, his voice neutral, betraying no sadness.

Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed a black bag with a blood-stained shirt in it. "Your shirt's got blood on it. We could send it to the dry cleaners. Or, if it's inconvenient, I could wash it for you." It was the least I could do, considering he had saved me the day before.

"No need," he dismissed.

I bit my lip but mustered the courage to ask, "Was the embroidery on the shirt handcrafted by a skilled artisan? It's quite beautiful."

His indifferent expression faltered for a moment before he regained his composure. "If you like it, I'll have this skilled artisan do one for you next time."

"Really? I'd love an embroidered one with the initials MH." I said it to gauge his reaction.

He didn't react much, just a noncommittal grunt, and mentioned he was full.

But when I looked at his lunchbox filled with chicken soup and grilled salmon, both excellent for healing wounds, teased, "Mr. Collins' cooking isn't bad. He must care

about you. That's love right there."

Cough, cough! He suddenly choked, his face turning red.

"You did well in surgery today. Still thinking about returning to grad school?" Max asked, changing the subject.

This time, I was the one who looked down, not responding, and furiously ate my meal as if it would allow me to chew through my frustrations with Claude!

"I need to head home this afternoon, so let's leave it at that." I packed my lunchbox and left his office without waiting for Max's response.

I was curious if Claude had managed to kick Kate out last night. But before I could find out, I bumped into Claude, pushing Kate in a wheelchair toward me in the hallway. She got injured again.

"Claire," Kate greeted me warmly.

I pointed at her leg, "Don't tell me you fell while carrying soup upstairs?"

It was a wild guess, but she nodded, looking pitiful, "Yes, such a shame to waste good soup."

My brows furrowed. So, Kate must have known about Daniel's incident last night, but she had an alibi of being at Claude's place.

"I just finished surgery, saving a

criminal involved in a lewd act.

Pe

Luckily, he didn't die and is now in the ICU at the end of this corridor He should be waking up tomorrow. Are you here to snoop around?" I asked, noticing her panicked look.

"You can't talk to her that way. Kate wouldn't be in this situation if it weren't for your soup. What were you thinking, making soup for me?" Claude scolded me, of all things.

I shrugged. "You can check the home surveillance. She insisted on taking it."

I was too drained to argue with them anymore and went back to my office. I could hear Claude complaining, "It's all because Mom spoils her. Look at how she's acting now."

How did Claude conclude that I was spoiled? But what he thought no longer mattered to me. I was over his opinions. So, I decided to call Ronald.