The Officer's Runaway Wife & Secret Son novel Chapter 273

After seeing Mia off, Rhys turned toward the smoking area behind the inpatient building.

The bench was cold. He sat down, holding a lighter in his hand. His thumb pressed the ignition, a flame shot up, he released it, and it died out.

He repeated this several times, watching the momentary flash of light.

"Got a light?"

A voice came from beside him, quite gentle.

Rhys paused and looked sideways.

Noah was wearing a white coat, hands in his pockets, standing a few steps away watching him.

Rhys tossed the lighter over.

Noah caught it, walked over naturally, and sat in the empty spot next to him.

The flame burned steadily.

Noah stared at the flame for a moment before handing the lighter back.

"I thought you'd ask why I'm here."

Rhys thought to himself that it wasn't strange for a doctor from this hospital to be anywhere on the premises.

He asked, "Why didn't you go back with them?"

Logically, as a husband and father, Noah should be with them.

"I took a severe pediatric case yesterday that needed follow-up observation. Plus, there's a national pediatric conference being held in Brighton City, so I have to stay here for a while."

"That's good," Rhys said, lowering his eyes. "Taking care of the family and having a career."

This was the difference between him and Noah.

Noah was a doctor who saved lives with a scalpel. He had a respectable job, was held in high regard, and could stand beside Clara in a clean shirt, attend parent-teacher meetings, and be the omnipotent hero dad for the child.

Unlike him—covered in mud, hands stained with blood.

Every mission had an uncertain return date, and life and death were never guaranteed. He couldn't talk about his work. He could only be a driver on a stormy day to give them a lift, and in the end, he had to accept a thousand-dollar fare to draw a clear line.

Noah turned to look at him.

Rhys had become much more silent over the years. A man in his thirties, yet there were already a few gray hairs hidden at his temples, and the scar on his brow bone was prominent.

He didn't finish the sentence. He drew in a slow breath, forcing the taste of regret back down.

"Noah."

"Yeah?"

"Heron Bay is humid. Clara is delicate; she complains if it's too hot or too cold. You need to keep an eye on that."

Rhys spoke slowly, delivering instructions word by word.

"When the rainy season comes, remind her to turn on the dehumidifier. She's lazy. If no one reminds her, she'll let the water tank fill up and shut off automatically without emptying it, leaving it like that for days."

"Also, she's allergic to pineapple. Felix... I don't know if he inherited that, but be careful."

Noah listened quietly.

Once upon a time, Clara had cried out this name in her nightmares.

Back then, Rhys was Clara's doomed fate.

But now, this man was in front of him, speaking like he was leaving his last will and testament, entrusting the person he loved to another man.