The Officer's Runaway Wife & Secret Son novel Chapter 508

Noah asked, "How is he doing?"

Clara glanced toward the kitchen, stood up, and went into the study.

"I want to convince him to consider a transplant."

Simon frowned. "A lung transplant? Isn't the risk a bit high?"

The atmosphere grew heavy.

Noah broke the silence. "The transplant procedures back home are highly advanced now. Dr. Black is top-tier, incredibly professional. He could start with a comprehensive evaluation to see if he even meets the surgical criteria right now."

He paused, adding, "Don't go digging around online by yourself. Reading too much will only make you anxious."

Clara nodded.

They exchanged a few more pleasantries before ending the call.

The moment the screen went black, everyone's smiles vanished.

Clara gripped her phone, her mind echoing with Daniel's words: *Being an ex-wife is better than being a widow.*

Daniel could say that because he always stood on the side of the law.

In his eyes, aside from Emily, everything in the world could be quantified.

But love wasn't a court case. It couldn't be deduced through a chain of evidence.

Of course she understood what Rhys was afraid of.

But what Clara wanted right now wasn't his noble retreat.

If two people decided to spend the rest of their lives together, neither of them should constantly be keeping one foot out the door.

She had chosen him. She wanted uncompromising devotion. She wanted them bound together through sickness and health, life and death—not this self-righteous "for her own good" contingency plan.

Thinking about this, Clara's heartache was gradually swallowed by a surge of inexplicable anger.

It was almost noon when she finally walked out of the study.

The hum of the exhaust fan filled the kitchen. When Rhys saw her approaching, the spatula in his hand paused.

She had been in the study all morning, and he hadn't dared to interrupt. Seeing that her expression seemed normal, the anxiety he had been harboring all morning finally settled.

"Finished up in there?"

"Yeah."

"Hungry? Just give it five minutes. The chicken wings are almost done."

Clara grew even angrier.

It was an anger with no clear origin and no rational explanation.

She felt that if she didn't bring it up herself, this man would happily cook for her for the rest of his life while playing the role of her "ex-husband" until the day he died.

"Alright, I'll wait," Clara said, her tone perfectly normal as she turned to set the table in the dining room.

At twelve-thirty, lunch was served right on time.

As she ate, Clara casually steered the conversation. "Your time off is almost over, right?"

Rhys answered honestly. "Yeah. It ends on Thursday. I report back to the command center on Friday. They've already sent my schedule."

Clara poked at her food with her fork, continuing her probe. "Do you have any other plans before then?"

There were still three days left of his vacation.

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