At the hospital in Eldorria City.
Quincy had barely touched down before she was rushed into the operating room.
This time was different from the last. Previously, Everett had been unconscious, sparing her the need for any eye contact. But now…
“Mr. Lopez, I’m afraid I’m going to have to invade your personal space a bit here.”
Everett’s hand was secured on the operating table, and since it was a local anesthetic, he was awake, though his face was pale.
“Did she come?”
He didn’t respond to Quincy’s remark, his mind clearly elsewhere, probably outside the operating room.
“Ms. Sanchez? I’m not sure. I didn’t see anyone when I came in.” Quincy, now in her scrubs, began to apply disinfectant, revealing a long, deep cut.
Even though she was no stranger to the OR, the sight still made her wince.
“Ms. Sanchez did this?”
Everett glanced at her but remained silent.
“She really went all out. This looks as bad as what that guy did.”
“You talk too much.”
It was the first time Quincy had received such feedback. She fell silent, focusing on the surgery, stitching the torn tendon back together.
As seconds turned into minutes, sweat beaded on Quincy’s forehead, wiped away only to form again.
“Will my hand ever fully recover?”
Perhaps feeling a bit grateful for Quincy’s rushed effort and immediate surgery without rest, and for putting up with his gruffness, Everett initiated a conversation.
Quincy was momentarily taken aback.
“I’ll do my best. Physical therapy afterwards will be crucial too.”
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