Chapter 2
When I opened my eyes again, daylight flooded the room.
I scrambled out of bed, washed up quickly, and hauled my things downstairs to wait for a cab.
About ten minutes later, a car abruptly stopped before me. Clearly not my taxi.
I instinctively stepped back as the window rolled down, revealing a man’s face.
“Thanks for yesterday. Heading to People’s Hospital. Need a ride?”
I studied him carefully before recognizing the man I’d bumped into at the hospital.
This book had been added on your bookshelf.
“No need, I’ve already called a cab. Thanks though.” I politely declined.
He persisted, loading my luggage into his car anyway.
“Get in. Consider it thanks for last night.”
Though suspicious, my gut told me he meant no harm.
Settled in the passenger seat, I asked, “Did we meet last night?”
His expression froze momentarily before smoothing over. “I live next door. Borrowed tools from you.”
Realization dawned on me. “Oh, sorry. Didn’t notice you then.”
He waved it off. “No worries. Name’s Patrick. Remember that.”
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I nodded awkwardly.
Strange guy.
“Where are you headed?”
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“People’s Hospital.” Patrick watched me through the rearview mirror. “I work in cardiology there. Heart trouble? Saw your transplant notice last time.”
Surprise flickered through me. What were the odds?
Then I recalled bumping into him outside cardiology. Made sense.
“Yeah, congenital heart defect. Found a match recently. Here for the surgery.”
Patrick nodded thoughtfully. “I see. Don’t worry. Medical tech’s advanced now. Surgery’ll go smoothly.”
I mirrored his nod, turning toward the window.
He insisted on carrying my things upstairs until only my small shoulder bag remained,
After settling in, I quietly awaited pre–op tests in my room. Oddly, they’d assigned me a private suite.
I’d saved enough, but this felt excessive.
When a nurse entered, I asked, “Am I staying here? This is private, right? A shared room’s fine.”
She paused briefly before smiling. “All other rooms are full. This one was free. Same price, no extra charge.”
I stopped questioning it, settling on the bed with a book.
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All test results came back optimal, yet my anxiety grew as surgery neared.
Patrick suddenly pushed the door open, cradling a bouquet of Lisianthus. He arranged them carefully on the windowsill.
I frowned. Never told him these were my favorite.
“Why flowers?”
“To thank you for the tools, apologize for bumping into you, and as neighbors… wishing you successful surgery.”
I pressed my lips together.
“Thanks. But how did you know I like Lisianthus?”
Patrick turned around, his expression utterly calm. “Is that so?
“What a coincidence. I just thought Lisianthus flowers carry good symbolism–representing health and blessings–perfect for patients.”
His frankness dissolved all my lingering doubts.
A nurse pushed the door open, spotting him before turning to me.
“Dr. Patrick, you’re here too. Miss Ruth, it’s time for the operating room.”
I nodded, settling back onto the bed and waving at Patrick
“Thanks for the flowers, I love them. Wish me a successful surgery.”
The overhead lights glared unusually bright as anesthesia took effect, my consciousness growing hazy.
In that dazed moment, I overheard doctors and nurses murmuring nearby.
“Is Dr. Patrick really not coming in? He looks rather pale.”
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“Didn’t he say he’d lead the surgery earlier? Why the sudden cold feet?”
“Better for him to stay away in such situations. Avoids distractions… or losing control.”
Their voices kept droning, but the beeping machines drowned them out.
Finally, my eyelids closed heavily.