Chapter 207 Cowardly Deserter
Michelle is right here in Starstream City.
I'm not surprised that Michelle was so close to me all along. What surprises me is that Lucas and I couldn't find any trace of him , yet Stephen seems to know everything about it.
"Stephen, are we enemies or friends?" I couldn't help asking.
Lucas puts his arm around my shoulder, signaling me to stay calm.
"There are no permanent enemies or permanent friends in this world, only relationships where interests align or don't align," Stephen says calmly.
"So do our interests align right now?"
I'm not desperate for an ally like this. After all, even if we become friends, I'd still have to watch my back constantly.
I just hope we don't become enemies with Stephen anytime soon.
"Of course," Stephen answers with certainty. "I really admire you, Lucas, and the Sorelli family's fearless way of doing things."
That sounds nice, but my brothers and I simply don't have much left to lose. Don't think I don't know how people in Dawnharbor talk about me and my brothers.
They call us 'crazy,' and they say Lucas is a 'demon.'
"Where is Michelle?"
Stephen says, "Bella, I've already told you—she's in Starstream City. As for more detailed information, I'm sure you wouldn't want something for nothing."
After hanging up, I slump ungracefully on the couch. "I'm exhausted. Dealing with people like him is just exhausting."
Lucas gently rubs the space between my eyebrows, saying with some concern, "We'll find Michelle ourselves. We don't need to work with him."
I nod. "I feel like every sentence Stephen says has a trap in it. Where do you think Michelle is hiding?"
"No rush. She can't hide forever," Lucas says with a somewhat arrogant tone that I find very reassuring. "Let her live a bit longer. Anyway, she's like a rat in the gutter—she won't be happy hiding around like this."
A day later, Stephen suddenly sends me a message. "Just a heads up—the family of a patient you and Doyle were treating five years ago is looking for you. They don't have good intentions. Be careful."
I put down my phone and can't help rubbing my temples with my index finger.
Doyle and I saved many people, but there were also many patients we couldn't help.
I don't know which one Stephen is talking about.
I don't ask. I feel that even if I did, Stephen wouldn't tell me.
In the afternoon, I go to see Roger for rehabilitation. It's rare to see him looking so serious, so I ask what's wrong.
"There's been a rumor going around lately that you're obsessed with making medicine because you can't do surgery anymore. Your right hand's old injury probably won't stay hidden much longer."
My movements pause for a moment, and I quietly acknowledge it.
"What are you going to do about this? Aren't you upset?" Roger taps the table in front of me.
"What good does being upset do? My right hand is damaged—that's a fact," I say flatly. "There will be more troublemakers lately. If you run into them, be careful."
"I'm not stupid. If something happens, I'll definitely be the first to run." Roger scratches his messy hair irritably. "You seem pretty calm, but those people might go after your family to test you."
I instantly feel uneasy. "Really?"
Roger looks at my suddenly pale face, and the words of refutation that rush to his lips are swallowed back. "Maybe I'm overthinking it."
After that, I remain restless. Even when having dinner with Lucas that evening, I keep spacing out.
"Bella, are you free this weekend?" Lucas furrows his brow slightly. "Let's go see Oscar together."
Oscar is Lucas's private doctor. I quickly ask if he's feeling unwell anywhere.
"Oscar says my mood has been stable lately and I'm doing well, so we can reduce my medication. But there are some things he needs to tell my family about." Lucas holds me, resting his head on my shoulder like a clingy, affectionate giant dog.
I can almost see a tail wagging behind him.
"Okay," I agree.
Lucas kisses my cheek. Even though we've done more intimate things, when he makes these affectionate little gestures, I still feel shy.
"And talk to Oscar about your situation too, okay?" Lucas asks carefully.
I lower my eyes to look at my right hand, which appears fine but can never apply force flexibly at critical moments.
Lucas cups my face and asks again, "Okay?"
I think about how whenever I stand at the operating table, I can't do precise movements. My hand shakes when holding a needle or scalpel. Even after tens of thousands of basic training sessions, I still can't complete a surgery.
"Okay," I answer softly, making up my mind.
"I'll be with you," Lucas says.
Looking at him like this, how could I not understand?
Having me go with him to see Oscar is actually just an excuse to help me overcome my psychological barriers.
I think maybe I should be a bit braver.
Saturday arrives with clear weather.
After not seeing him for a while, the serious and rigid Oscar has actually dyed his hair. Various shades of green are hidden among his original hair color, as if green sprouts of spring were growing from his head.
"Weird, isn't it?" Oscar touches his head. "My daughter insisted I dye my hair. She's a hair stylist. She said I look like an elf wizard from the movies. I really don't understand you young people's ideas."
"It's not weird at all. It looks good," I say with a smile. My nervous mood from the whole journey inexplicably relaxes.
"I didn't expect you to be the Miracle Surgeon. No wonder the ointment you make works so well," Oscar jokes. "My family uses your ointment for every little injury. If I'd known, I would have locked all that ointment in a safe."
"Then it would be pointless," I say with a laugh. "When you run out, I'll have Lucas send you a few more jars. I guarantee your whole family won't be able to use it all in a lifetime."
"That would be great."
The atmosphere is good. Oscar chats with me about Lucas's condition. "Mr. Valeri's condition is very stable. As long as he doesn't experience major trauma, he definitely won't do those foolish things like kidnapping and imprisoning you again."
I smile and nod while Lucas grunts.
Oscar continues, "I heard you also have some troubles. Although I'm not a professional psychologist, if you're willing, you can talk to me briefly."
Here it comes.
I suddenly feel nervous.
The problem I've been avoiding all along is being stated plainly, but thinking of Roger's warning, I don't want to continue being a cowardly deserter.
"I..." As soon as I start speaking, my hoarse voice startles even myself.
Oscar frowns and pours me a glass of water.
Lucas holds me tightly, his broad, warm hand gently patting my back. "Relax, Bella. Don't be afraid. Take a deep breath."
He looks at me with concern. "Should we go back today instead?"
My fingertips curl slightly, and I shake my head. "I want to try."
"Alright, don't force yourself."
Oscar pulls the light-colored curtains closed. The indoor lighting becomes soft. He lights an aromatherapy lamp, and the faint, refreshing scent gradually soothes my emotions.
"Are you willing to recall what happened when your right hand was injured?"
It's as if there's a key in my mind, opening that door that's been locked for five years.
The darkest memories instantly come flooding out.