Chapter 87
Chapter 87:
Cristian wheeled Fernanda up the stairs, carefully orchestrating a series of medical examinations for her. Aside from a slash across her neck and a dislocated ankle, she only had minor cuts and bruises. Cristian breathed a sigh of relief, grateful he had insisted on full protective gear for their motorcycle ride. If she had ridden in shorts and a tank top, the outcome would have been horrifying.
“Doctor, is her ankle going to be a problem?” Cristian inquired, concern lacing his voice.
“No, the ankle’s been properly reset; it simply requires some rest,” the doctor explained with a reassuring smile. “Just make sure she doesn’t stress it too much or engage in any strenuous activities for a bit. But where was it taken care of? And why wasn’t this checked earlier?”
“She did it herself right after the accident,” Cristian replied, gently stroking Fernanda’s hair as he spoke.
“She managed that on her own?” The doctor’s eyes widened in astonishment.
Throughout her years in practice, she had rarely encountered someone who could handle the excruciating pain to reset their own joint—especially someone so young. Assuming Cristian was embellishing the story, the doctor chuckled and didn’t pursue the matter further.
“I’ll prescribe a couple of bottles of anti-inflammatory medication,” the doctor announced. “Once we get those administered, you’re free to take her home. Just swing by daily so we can change the dressings.”
After the doctor hooked up the IV, Cristian pushed Fernanda’s wheelchair to the infusion center.
No sooner had the first drip begun than Fernanda’s phone erupted with a ring. It was Ector calling.
Fernanda picked up, Ector’s concerned voice filling her ears. “Fernanda, where are you right now?”
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Stopping by a dessert shop after work, he had carefully chosen Fernanda’s favorite cakes for a sweet surprise. But the sight of her empty room filled him with dread. Fernanda was usually home by this time, so her absence at such a late hour left him uneasy.
“I’m at the hospital.” Her voice came through the phone.
Ector’s heart skipped a beat. “You’re at the hospital? Are you okay? What happened?”
“Just a minor accident. I’m here getting an IV,” Fernanda replied, her tone light, masking the gravity of the situation to keep Ector from worrying.
“Which hospital are you at?” Ector’s voice carried a mix of concern and insistence.
“I’ll be home soon after the infusion. Really, no need for you to come over.” She attempted to dissuade him.
“It’s no trouble at all. I’ll come and pick you up. Just tell me where you are,” Ector persisted, his voice firm.
With a sigh of resignation, knowing Ector’s stubbornness all too well, Fernanda finally gave in. “Esaham Central Hospital.”
“Got it,” Ector said curtly, ending the call.
He then arrived at the hospital forty minutes later, his presence breaking the stillness of the space. Dressed in a crisply ironed shirt and trousers, his appearance was starkly contrasted by the slippers he wore—a testament to his hurried departure.
He hadn’t even spared a moment to change his shoes.
“What happened to you? How did you end up like this?” Ector inquired, his brow furrowed as he gazed at the thick bandages encircling Fernanda’s neck.
“I took a bad fall,” Fernanda murmured, trying to downplay the incident.
Ector let out a sharp sigh, his tone laced with doubt. “A fall? Seriously? How could it be that bad?”
Turning towards Cristian, who stood a few feet away, Ector’s eyes narrowed with serious intent. “Mr. Reed, could you please explain why my sister is in this condition?”
“I’m sorry,” Cristian admitted honestly, his tone void of excuses. “I didn’t take good care of her.”
Ector, driven by a surge of anger, swung his fist, striking Cristian directly in the face. The sharp blow of the impact resounded through the room.
Fernanda shot to her feet, alarmed. “Ector, what are you doing?” she demanded.
Cristian stood his ground, absorbing the punch without flinching. Guilt weighed heavily on him, and he felt he deserved the punishment.
“You’d better not forget what you promised me,” Ector warned, pointing an accusatory finger at Cristian. His voice was icy as he continued, “My sister went out with you and returned hurt. If you don’t care about that, I sure as hell do.”
“Who says I don’t care?” Cristian fired back, his voice laced with anguish and remorse. “I’m shattered by what happened.”
He wished he could swap places with Fernanda, to take on the burden of suffering himself.
Moreover, if he had any say in it, he would have never entered the race, much less brought Fernanda along.
“I doubt that!” Ector snapped, his disbelief evident in his tone. The force of the punch had subdued his initial fury, softening his voice slightly. “I thought you had what it takes to look after my sister, but you’ve really let me down.”
“It’s not his fault,” Fernanda intervened, her voice a whisper of despair as she clutched Ector’s arm. “We’ve discovered the real culprit. It really isn’t his fault.”
Ector’s eyebrows knitted together in confusion. “Are you suggesting it wasn’t merely an accident? Did someone deliberately target you?”
Unable to hide the truth any longer, Fernanda conceded and quickly outlined the harrowing details of the motorcycle race.
“It’s Ava again, huh!” Ector’s expression turned steely cold. “I have already issued a warning to her family before. It appeared that she had no remorse and was actually intensifying her reckless behavior!”
With that, Ector’s eyes shifted to Cristian, noting the vivid red mark that adorned his cheek—a testament to the force of the punch. Despite his ability to evade, Cristian had chosen not to, a fact that somehow made Ector regret his actions.
“I seem to have misunderstood you, Mr. Reed,” Ector admitted, a tone of realization in his voice. “Apologies, I was overly concerned about Fernanda.”
“It’s all right,” Cristian responded, his back against the wall, remarkably composed. “I get it, you’re her brother after all. Plus, as I mentioned earlier, I should have been more vigilant about Fernanda’s safety.”
Cristian recognized that impulsiveness was not characteristic of Ector, who was usually more measured and deliberate. Today, his impulsive actions, however, were a clear indicator of Ector’s deep alarm over…
Fernanda’s condition.
This sincere worry wasn’t lost on Cristian, and he chose not to take offense.
“I’ll take this up with the Ross family,” Ector declared resolutely, his voice firm. “I can’t just let this slide.”
Though Fernanda had brushed off the incident, Ector could feel the undercurrent of terror and danger that had permeated the moment. If luck hadn’t been on Fernanda’s side, he might have lost her forever. The mere thought sent a shiver down his spine.
“Ector, this is my problem to deal with,” Fernanda assured him with a gentle voice, trying to ease his worries. “You don’t need to trouble yourself.”
“It’s no trouble at all,” Ector insisted earnestly. “You’re my sister. What concerns you concerns me.”
Fernanda offered him a soft, grateful smile and nodded in acknowledgment.
“By the way,” Ector went on, a sudden thought crossing his mind. “Kevin was at the motorcycle race today as well. Did you happen to see him?”
“Really? I hadn’t noticed,” Fernanda remarked with a shrug. The crowd had been thick, and her attention hadn’t stretched to include Kevin.
Ector pondered silently. If only Fernanda and Kevin were closer, perhaps Kevin could have lent a hand today. What a pity!
After the IV treatment was completed, Ector gently pushed Fernanda’s wheelchair through the hospital’s corridors towards the parking garage.
“Mr. Reed, I will take it from here. You are free to go now,” Ector announced.
Cristian always felt a certain chill of hostility from Ector but couldn’t pinpoint the reason.
Did he appear untrustworthy? Was Ector uncomfortable with the idea of him being close to Fernanda?
“Sure,” Cristian responded, his voice low and reserved as he fixed his gaze on Fernanda. “I’ll drop by to visit another day.”
Once they were settled in the car, with Fernanda in the passenger seat, Ector fired up the engine. As they rolled out of the hospital garage onto the bustling street, Ector inquired, his voice laced with concern, “Fernanda, are you truly sure about this?”
.
.
.