She's Too Busy Winning to Watch Him Cry novel Chapter 137

Once they reached the hospital, Waylon handled the registration, got her x-rays sorted, and spoke with the attending physician.

"It's dislocated."

Right after the doctor confirmed the diagnosis and before he could begin treatment, a man claiming to be the osteopath strode into the examination room. "Which one of you is Lyra Fairchild?"

Waylon pointed toward Lyra.

"This is the ankle?" The old practitioner crouched down beside her.

Lyra instinctively flinched away.

Waylon offered a comforting smile. "Let him take a look. Otherwise, you might be stuck in a cast."

"I don't think..." Lyra had a natural distrust for anyone who looked like a back-alley healer, but before she could even finish her sentence, the man stood up and brushed off his hands. "Done."

"Done?"

Lyra felt like he had barely even grazed her ankle before declaring it fixed.

"Does it still hurt?" Waylon asked.

Lyra tested her ankle, realizing the sharp, stabbing agony had completely vanished.

"Who was that?"

"I don't know him personally, but he has to be connected to Rowan. I heard Grandpa Alistair dislocated his wrist a few months back and hired a specialist. That guy matches the description perfectly."

The color drained from Lyra's face, a chaotic mix of emotions warring in her chest.

She felt like she would never truly understand what was going through Rowan's mind.

She could only guess that ever since she returned his ring, he had actually started showing a shred of humanity. He must have been deeply satisfied that she was the one who broke off the engagement.

"Try walking on it," Waylon suggested, pulling her out of her thoughts.

Lyra stood up and took a few tentative steps, her expression visibly relaxing. "It really doesn't hurt anymore."

Her ankle was fine, though she still had a few scrapes on her legs, which the nurses quickly cleaned and bandaged up.

As they walked out of the hospital, Lyra looked at Waylon with genuine gratitude. "Thank you. I really owe you for today."

"Don't worry about it. Let me give you a ride home."

Lyra nodded softly. She felt a faint flutter of warmth in her chest but quickly shoved the thought away.

...

"Mom, let me steal her away for a second."

With that, Rowan took Jasmine's hand and led her upstairs.

His bedroom door clicked shut behind them, completely cutting off the chatter from downstairs. The lighting inside was soft and inviting, while a faint, woodsy cologne lingered in the air—crisp yet grounding, perfectly mirroring the man himself.

Rowan pulled open a drawer. "I keep forgetting to give something back to you."

"Let's have it, then." Jasmine held out her hand, her posture poised and elegant.

The corner of Rowan's mouth curled up in a faint smile. He was just about to pull out the pink crystal bracelet when Caspian suddenly threw the door open and barged in, shouting dramatically, "Whoa, my bad! I'm highly allergic to romance, so please spare me the lovey-dovey stuff while I'm in the room."

Jasmine, who usually maintained a cool and collected demeanor, instantly flushed, a lovely shade of pink rushing all the way to the tips of her ears.

Rowan let out a low, husky chuckle.

Noticing his brother was in a surprisingly good mood, Caspian shoved a test paper into his hands. "Rowan, how do I solve this one?"

Rowan cast his gaze downward, studying the problem for a brief moment.

Within seconds, he grabbed a pen and mapped out the entire solution for him.