Chapter 37: Kissed Him on the Lips
Amelia was in a great mood afterward. After finishing her massage, she left a generous tip and called a car to head home feeling refreshed.
...
Mia was wheeled into the emergency room. James tried to follow but was stopped.
The door closed in front of him, like it had slammed directly into him.
James felt his legs weaken from the impact. He stumbled backward several steps unsteadily.
Only when his back hit the wall did he finally steady himself.
...
Night had fallen. In the empty corridor, he was alone.
James leaned there in thin clothing, his shirt under the light sweater already soaked through.
The draft swept through, chilling him to the bone.
He seemed not to feel the cold at all, his gaze fixed blankly on that tightly closed door ahead.
Until suddenly, his right palm began to burn.
He slowly lowered his head, looking at his hands covered in blood—Mia's blood from when he'd held her.
James stared blankly at the still-wet blood, his hands trembling uncontrollably.
What Mia had said while lying in his arms had hit him too hard.
It shattered his long-held assumptions and sense of entitlement!
When they first got together, he knew Mia didn't love him either.
And he didn't care about that.
Being with Mia was never about her love.
He never lacked women's love anyway.
Her love—he didn't care for it.
Until one day later, he discovered that Mia had actually fallen in love with him.
Around him, she was terrible at hiding her emotions, practically writing "I love him" all over her face.
Still thinking she was hiding it well, she dragged him to a clay sculpture shop instead of confessing directly.
She had him learn clay sculpting with her.
He was a neat freak who couldn't stand the dirty feeling of clay on his hands.
Seeing the displeasure on his face, she didn't push it. She sat him down to wait and watch her work.
She really had a good sense of boundaries.
That was one of the main reasons he enjoyed spending time with her so much.
Mia wasn't particularly skilled with her hands, but she worked hard to learn from the instructor.
Classic case of making up for lack of talent with effort.
Once the shape was formed, the staff took it to be fired.
She leaned against him, waiting expectantly.
When the staff brought out the finished clay sculpture, her eyes lit up.
She left his embrace and carefully stepped forward to receive it.
Holding it in front of him, she looked at him expectantly and asked, "James, can we display this at home?"
"Sure." He didn't hesitate, agreeing immediately.
It was just a decoration.
Even if it clashed with their home decor.
As long as she was happy.
The moment he agreed, she—who always insisted on keeping intimate moments private—was so happy that for the first time in public, she stood on her tiptoes and planted a kiss on his lips with a radiant smile.
After the kiss, she sweetly hugged the sculpture and shyly buried her face in his chest, radiating happiness.
He looked down at the happy Mia in his arms, infected by her joy, his eyes crinkling with a smile.
He loved seeing her happy smile—like she owned the whole world.
Love—he couldn't return it, but he could treat her better and make her happier.
From that day on, he treated her better and better.
And Mia, because of his kindness, fell deeper and deeper.
She trusted and depended on him more and more, her smiles growing sweeter.
Immersed in happiness, she was happy every day.
He always thought he wasn't wrong.
Her falling in love with him was her own failure to guard her heart—he didn't need to take responsibility for that.
His response of treating her better was meant to make her happier. And if she fell deeper because of it, that had nothing to do with him.
How could a man cherishing his woman, treating her well, and making her happy be wrong?
But then Mia lay in his arms, in extreme pain, angrily accusing him.
About that "I love you"—if Mia hadn't mentioned it that day, he would have even forgotten about it.
He thought it was just a dream and never thought deeply about it.
Now, connecting everything together.
It turned out that when Mia dragged him to the clay sculpture shop that day, it wasn't because she had suddenly fallen in love with him and clumsily wanted to confess through clay sculpting—she was responding to his "confession" in that way.
James closed his eyes in pain.
...
Time passed second by second. James stood at the emergency room door for so long he seemed to turn into a living fossil, motionless.
His gaze fixed on the red light above the emergency room door.
Waiting, each second feeling like a year.
Until—
The light went out.
The door pulled open from inside.
James's soul finally returned to his body. He rushed over in a few large steps.
His height advantage let him look over the short doctor's head inside, but he didn't see Mia.
He raised both hands, gripping the doctor's arms, asking urgently, "Doctor, where's my wife? How is she?"
"She's fine."
Hearing Mia was okay, the breath James had been holding in his throat finally slowly descended.
His Mia was fine!
His grip on the doctor's arms loosened.
But the next second, he grabbed tight again, pressing, "What about the baby?"
The doctor's expression froze.
Seeing this expression, James's pupils contracted again. His heart, which hadn't yet settled, shot back up to his throat.
"Speak!"
James suddenly tightened his grip. The doctor's expression pushed him, who had been on the edge of losing control all night, over the edge.
His emotions fluctuating wildly, he grabbed the doctor by the collar.
The doctor, a good half-head shorter than him, was half-lifted up by him, heels leaving the ground.
The collar tightened, making breathing difficult, his face turning blue.
A hand timely gripped James's arm—it was Louis, who had rushed over. He glanced at the doctor James was holding up and stopped him in time, "James, let go first."
Louis was a famous doctor in the country, a once-in-a-century medical genius.
Not yet thirty, already internationally renowned.
He happened to be invited today to perform a surgery no one else dared take on, with extremely low success rates.
He came and completed the surgery easily, having just left the operating room minutes ago.
Avoiding the waiting family members outside, he walked out through another passage.
He overheard the night shift nurses talking.
Confirming it was Mia in the emergency room, he rushed over without even changing his clothes.
...
James heard Louis's voice and turned his gaze to him.
Meeting his eyes, following his signal, he let go.
"Dr. Cox."
The attending physician, rescued from James's clutches, saw Louis and his eyes lit up.
Louis was too famous in the medical field. Even though by age and experience he was several years senior, people admire strength.
There were few in the medical field who didn't admire Louis.
The small portion who didn't admire him were medical field veterans who saw Louis as a junior.
They didn't admire him, but they appreciated him greatly.
"What's the situation with Mia's baby?"
Louis gripped James's arm, not letting him get agitated again.