Chapter 1 It's Actually Him!

Harmony Health Center, Pain Management Department, Consultation Room 1.

The benches outside the room were packed with people, mostly men, all waiting for Matilda Spencer to call their numbers.

A young guy in his twenties came out looking thrilled, his face full of excitement.

"Dr. Spencer is really gorgeous. Even with a mask on, those eyes of hers are captivating, and her voice is so sweet and soft..."

His friend asked, "Did Dr. Spencer prescribe you any medicine?"

The guy looked puzzled. "I came in for leg pain, right? But Dr. Spencer told me to go to the pharmacy and buy some diuretic tea and drink it for a while. What does a diuretic have to do with leg pain?"

His friend laughed. "Dr. Spencer's saying you've got too much water in your brain that needs draining."

The guy frowned. "What's that supposed to mean?"

His friend shrugged. "Just go buy it already. If you wait any longer, your little ache will heal itself!"

...

Matilda was getting frustrated.

She'd already seen thirty patients this morning—everything from hemorrhoid pain to urinary tract pain coming to her clinic.

If the hospital didn't require them to smile and be nice, she would've lost it already.

She'd just gotten rid of the previous patient when another one walked in.

Matilda was staring at her computer. Without looking up, she asked, "Where does it hurt?"

A low, rough male voice answered, "The location of my pain is a bit awkward."

Matilda took a deep breath, holding back her anger. "In a doctor's eyes, all parts of the human body are just organs and tissues. You don't need to feel awkward."

"Inner thigh."

Matilda instantly flew into a rage.

Were all these people here just to mess with her?

Just as she was about to blow up, she turned her head and saw a well-built man sitting beside her.

He sat straight and proper, his eyes above the mask looking at her intently.

Matilda's anger got stuck in her throat and wouldn't come out.

She glanced at the computer screen and saw the patient's name: Wentworth Gonzaga, 30 years old.

It really was him!

"How... how did you get injured?" Now it was Matilda's turn to be nervous.

"During a mission, I accidentally got cut by a criminal." Wentworth spoke frankly.

An external injury?

This wasn't really in Matilda's scope of treatment.

But she couldn't exactly kick Wentworth out, so she said, "Lie down on the bed over there, and pull down your pants so I can examine you."

Wentworth did as told, but didn't forget to pull the curtain closed.

Matilda looked at the blue curtain she pulled dozens of times every day, and suddenly it felt burning hot to touch.

It took her a while before she pulled back the curtain and walked inside.

Meeting his gaze, she suddenly felt like the air around them had stopped moving.

He was lying on the bed, legs apart, pants pulled down to his knees. He should've looked like a fish ready for slaughter, but his presence was too powerful—tough and cold—as if she was the one about to be slaughtered.

He had to remind her: "Dr. Spencer, you can start the examination!"

She snapped back to reality and quickly looked at his injury.

The wound was at the top of his thigh, a knife cut, pretty deep, wrapped in gauze, but blood was still seeping through.

Because the wound was only an inch away from his private parts, she felt a bit at a loss.

Wentworth remained calm and even reminded her, "Didn't you say that in a doctor's eyes there are only organs?"

Matilda stubbornly replied, "I'm not looking at that. This might hurt a bit, try to bear with it."

She carefully unwrapped the gauze, then examined the wound, confirmed no other nerves were damaged, and disinfected it for him.

While disinfecting, even though she was being very careful, her fingers would occasionally touch that area.

Neither of them spoke. The air felt frozen.

Finally done, she let out a long breath. "Nothing serious. Just need to change the dressing daily and keep it dry."

"Thank you," Wentworth said.

"You're welcome, it's my job," Matilda replied.

As he got up, the pain made his body sway, and Matilda quickly steadied him.

He took the opportunity to rest his hand on her shoulder.

"What time do you get off work?" he asked.

"12 at noon."

"Do you have time? Can we find a place to talk?" Wentworth asked.

"I... ordered lunch at the hospital, and I have afternoon clinic hours. I might not have time," Matilda deflected.

"Then tonight. I'll pick you up after work tonight."

"...Do we have to talk?" Matilda asked.

"We have to!" Wentworth seemed persistent.

"Then... okay."

After Wentworth left, Matilda sat back at the computer, forgetting to call the next number for a moment.

There were still over a dozen people waiting outside.

They complained unhappily, "Dr. Spencer's just as shallow. When a tall, handsome guy comes in, she takes forever examining him. Look at the others before him—they were out in minutes."

"Maybe he really was in pain?"

"Oh, so you're saying the rest of us aren't really in pain?"

...

6 PM.

Matilda rode her scooter out of the hospital.

At the entrance, she suddenly remembered Wentworth's invitation and got distracted.

What did Wentworth want to talk about?

They'd only met once, two months ago, one night, and hadn't seen each other since.

But that night...

Lost in thought, a BMW in front of her suddenly slammed on its brakes. Matilda wasn't prepared and crashed right into it.

The BMW's door opened, and an angry man in a suit got out. He ran to the back of the car, saw the dent, and his anger flared up.

"Don't you watch where you're going..."

When he saw it was Matilda, the man got even angrier.

He asked harshly, "Matilda, it's you? Why did you hit my car?"

Only then did Matilda realize the person in front of her was Reuben Morris, her ex-boyfriend, also a doctor at this hospital but in a different department.

Two months ago, Reuben had cheated on her with the hospital director's daughter, Adalyn Stewart, and dumped her.

The old Reuben used to ride the city's shared bikes to and from work, wearing casual shirts from Target's clearance section. Who would've thought that in just two months, he'd not only be driving a BMW but also wearing a sharp suit? No wonder Matilda didn't recognize him at first.

Matilda said, "I didn't hit you on purpose. You slammed on your brakes."

"Couldn't you keep your distance? Matilda, do you really like me that much? How many times do I have to tell you—you and I aren't right for each other. Besides your face being somewhat decent, what else do you have? Your family background, your income, your education—which one makes you good enough for me?"

Matilda got angry too. "You don't need to say that, do you? When you were chasing me, you praised me to the skies, bought me breakfast every morning, brought me roses—it was practically your full-time job. Why didn't you say I wasn't good enough for you then?"

"Back then I didn't know what kind of person you were. If I'd known you had so many men, I never would've chased you."

"What did you say? Say that again!" Matilda got off her scooter, glaring at Reuben angrily.

Reuben said disdainfully, "That big brother of yours told me everything. You've had lots of men since you were young. You'd hook up with anyone who gave you a little something. Compared to Addie, you're really nothing."

Matilda raised her hand and gave Reuben a hard slap across the face.