Chapter 167 Matilda Knows
Wentworth could barely manage a few steps now. Amelia had ordered him a special walker—he could push it forward and shuffle along slowly.
When he got bored, he'd feel his way out of bed and take a few steps. Though he couldn't see or hear, he'd undergone sensory deprivation training in the military. After walking through a room once, he could sense where obstacles were.
His calves would periodically spasm and cramp, though. Like now—he'd only made it two meters when a piercing pain shot through his calf muscle. He nearly lost his balance, but a pair of hands steadied him.
Not much strength in them—about the same as Matilda's. Must be her.
Warmth spread through Wentworth's chest. Once he was stable, he reached out to hug her, but she dodged away.
Maybe it wasn't Matty after all. A nurse?
He wanted to call out Matty's name. His mouth opened, his vocal cords vibrated, but because he couldn't hear, he had no idea if he'd actually made a sound.
That's why many deaf people also became mute—their world was silent. Speaking became one-sided output with no purpose.
He gripped the walker again and inched forward bit by bit. His calf spasmed again mid-way, but he gritted his teeth through it. Sweat dripped down his face, but he didn't make a sound.
Once the pain passed, he kept moving. Following the floral scent, he made his way to the floor's garden area and caught the fragrance of gardenias. He reached out, found a cluster of blooming flowers, and carefully picked two small blossoms to tuck in his pocket. Then he slowly made his way back.
He felt two people rush over anxiously to support him—probably worried when they saw how far he'd gone. He waved them off and continued shuffling back on his own. He knew where the bed was, knew which direction to go.
By the time he sat down, his whole body was drenched in sweat. Less than ten meters, but it had taken everything he had.
He mocked himself internally. Pathetic. At this recovery rate, when would he ever get back to active duty?
The two people who'd tried to help him were still nearby. He could sense their presence. One of them smelled like gardenias.
He reached into his pocket, pulled out the two flowers he'd just picked, and held them out to her. His Matty. Thank you for taking care of me all this time.
Juliana stared at the gardenias in Wentworth's hand, completely frozen. This man with his iron will, who'd bite down through pain without making a sound—in just those few minutes, he'd picked flowers for her.
Her nose stung with emotion.
"Juliana, Wentworth's giving you flowers. Go on, take them," Amelia said with a smile.
Juliana accepted them, then looked up at Wentworth. He smiled at her. That smile made flowers bloom in Juliana's heart too.
...
That evening, Juliana and Amelia ate dinner in the hospital room.
"Mom, I need to tell you something," Juliana said.
Amelia glanced at Wentworth in bed. "Go ahead. Wentworth can't hear anyway. Just say it."
Juliana instinctively looked at Wentworth. Her voice grew firm. "I saw Matilda yesterday."
"What?" Amelia nearly dropped her chopsticks. "Where? Are you sure? Could you have been mistaken?"
"I don't think so. I've seen her twice now. The first time she was wearing a white coat—she might be working as a doctor at this hospital."
Alarmed, Amelia said, "Let me check."
She had connections at this hospital. She immediately had someone pull the list of recently transferred doctors. Sure enough, Matilda's name was on it.
Amelia went pale. Sometimes fate worked in mysterious ways. Even though Matilda didn't know Wentworth was at this hospital, she'd somehow ended up here anyway.
But Amelia refused to accept fate. She tore up the list and turned to Juliana. "We need to transfer Wentworth to another hospital."
"Transfer where?" Juliana asked.
"Europe."
"In his condition... can he travel abroad?"
"He'd be going for medical treatment. As long as we have the proper authorization, it's fine. I can handle the paperwork."
Juliana looked at Wentworth, then slipped her hand into her pocket. She touched the two gardenias. Her heart felt like it had been struck by something, turning hard as stone.
"Alright. Let's transfer him immediately."
...
In Phoenix City, Carol was already preparing to open her restaurant. Through Ethan's connections, she'd leased a space near the hospital entrance. The shop had previously sold fruit and done well initially, but when the hospital's inpatient department started restricting visitors to control traffic, business had dried up. The previous owner had held on as long as possible before finally giving up and putting it on the market.
After doing her research, Carol had noticed that while there were plenty of small restaurants near the hospital, noodle places were scarce. If she opened one, it might actually do well.
She was busy clearing out the space when her phone rang. Danny.
They hadn't been in touch since she'd asked him about Wentworth that one time. Why was Danny calling now?
"Danny, how've you been?" Carol answered while hauling some of the previous tenant's trash to the bin.
"What?"
After hearing what Danny said, Carol's face went ashen.
...
Matilda also got a call from Carol.
"Matty, this is urgent, so I'll keep it brief..." Carol said.
Brief it was not.
"Wentworth was on a major classified mission recently. It was so top secret that most people don't know what happened—including Danny. But Danny's been trying to find out about Wentworth's situation. Yesterday, he happened to learn that Wentworth was injured. Danny freaked out and kept digging. After being really persistent, he found out Wentworth's hospitalized in Majestic City. Write this down—the hospital's called TrustCare Hospital..."
When Carol finished, Matilda's phone slipped from her hand and clattered to the floor.
Things were clicking into place. Prof. Morales had mentioned a VIP patient transferred to their hospital—a military officer. Prof. Morales had been called in for expert consultation. She thought she'd seen Juliana.
One piece after another... could it be...
She immediately dropped what she was doing and headed to find Prof. Morales. But her leg injury hadn't fully healed. In her haste, she stumbled and fell.
A colleague saw her go down and moved to help.
Matilda waved them off, pushing herself up and limping out as fast as she could.
The colleague stood there baffled, muttering, "What could possibly be so urgent that she doesn't even care if she lives or dies?"