Chapter 652

The moment the last patient left the examination room, Evelyn Carter's real work had just begun.

Alexander Hamilton stood at the corner of the hallway, watching her hurried figure disappear into the ward. He silently withdrew the foot he'd been about to step forward with. Approaching her now would only make him an unwelcome distraction.

As a patient himself, his treatment couldn't be more different.

"Dr. Carter!" A nurse's anxious voice carried from the ward. "This child absolutely refuses the injection. He started crying the moment I touched his hand."

The little boy on the bed was wailing hysterically, his face flushed red. His grandmother hovered helplessly beside him, her rough hands continuously wiping his tear-streaked cheeks.

"Doctor, I'm so sorry..." The old woman twisted her hands nervously. "He misses his mother terribly. I just can't calm him down..."

Evelyn's gaze fell on the child's white-knuckled grip. Her heart softened. She knelt down and gently gathered him into her arms.

"Sweetheart, let Auntie take a look, okay?" Her voice was tender as her fingertips brushed his damp eyelashes. "Auntie knows the shot hurts, but this will help you see Mommy sooner."

The boy hiccuped through his tears, his blurry vision momentarily superimposing Evelyn's gentle face over his hazy memory of his mother. Timidly, he clutched at her white coat. "Mommy..."

"Good boy. This weekend, Auntie will help you call Mommy." Seizing the opportunity, Evelyn took his small hand and signaled to the nurse with her eyes.

When the needle pierced his skin, the child trembled violently. Evelyn immediately held him tighter, humming a soft lullaby. By the time the IV was secured, he'd quieted in her embrace.

"Doctor, thank you so much..." The grandmother bowed repeatedly.

"It's my duty." Evelyn checked her watch. "Don't delay when he has a fever next time."

From the neighboring ward came waves of coughing. Three elderly patients were receiving IV drips, with Old Mr. Thompson at the end squinting laboriously at the tiny print on his medicine box.

"Sir, this medication can only be taken once daily." Evelyn strode over and pulled out a marker, drawing a large "1" on the box.

The elderly patients bombarded her with questions until a nurse came to remind her of her schedule, forcing her to rush back to the examination room.

"Dr. Carter," a young nurse whispered conspiratorially, poking her arm, "Mr. Hamilton has been waiting for you all morning."

Sunlight filtered through the leaves of an old locust tree, casting dappled shadows across the courtyard. Alexander stood amidst those shifting patterns, his tailored suit starkly out of place in the modest clinic.

For a fleeting moment, Evelyn remembered their days at Central Hospital. Back then, he'd always parked his car in the spot closest to the outpatient building, the window rolled halfway down to reveal his sharply defined profile.

If Annabelle Taylor hadn't returned, would this illusion of a marriage have lasted longer?

She'd asked herself countless times in the dead of night: Should she choose false perfection or the bloody truth?

The answer had long been etched into her bones—she'd rather feel the pain with clarity than live in delusion.

"Finished?" Alexander approached, the breeze carrying the scent of disinfectant from his sleeves.

Evelyn wiped the sweat from her temple. "That's how clinics are. Everything falls on you."

"You love it here." It wasn't a question. He studied the light in her eyes—a vitality he hadn't seen in ages.

A nurse passing by with medical records giggled. "Mr. Hamilton, why just stand there? Dr. Carter's hands don't bite."

The tree shadows swayed, time seeming to overlap in that instant. Watching his hesitant, aborted gesture, Evelyn suddenly smiled faintly.

"Yes," she said, gazing at the distant rolling mountains. "This place reminds me of when I first graduated from medical school."

Back then, they'd both still believed love could conquer everything.