Rosemary gritted her teeth so hard that, if she wasn't in such excruciating pain, she would have jumped up and torn his mouth apart!
"Maxwell, you think you're so great? Your whole family thinks they're so great!"
The nurse had no patience for this. Working the night shift in the ER was already stressful enough; dealing with unreasonable relatives was the last straw. She didn’t care who this guy was. Even if a mega superstar walked in, if they questioned her work, she wouldn’t put on a happy face. "How am I supposed to know if she's got a stomachache or a bellyache, appendicitis or gallbladder pain?"
Maxwell fell silent.
The nurse handed him a number slip. "Go to exam room seven. Next!"
Seeing Maxwell put in his place, Rosemary finally felt a bit of relief. She got up, intending to walk over by herself, but the man beside her naturally bent down and scooped her up in his arms. "Feeling smug?"
Rosemary didn’t want to answer a question that could easily lead to trouble, so she turned her head away. "No."
"Then reel in that grin," he paused, then added, "It's hideous."
Rosemary glared at him fiercely. "My mouth isn't just grinning ear to ear; I also have a full set of teeth. Wanna see? I could bite you to death!"
The diagnosis came back quickly: acute gastroenteritis. She needed to be hospitalized.
In Havenfield, there were only two triple-A hospitals, and the smallest wards were triples. Relatives had no dedicated beds, only foldable ones from the nurse station – hard, narrow, and short. Rosemary was admitted late; the other patients were already asleep, snoring like thunder.
Maxwell set her down on the bed. "Want some water?"
Rosemary shook her head; she had just thrown up downstairs and felt listless. A nurse came to take her temperature and hook up an IV.
She looked over at Maxwell standing by. "I'm fine here, you can go back."
Dressed like that, if he caught a cold, given his shamelessness, he'd surely blame it on her, and she'd end up having to take care of him.
Maxwell, towering above her with an indifferent face, said, "All the paperwork, tests, and carrying you up and down earlier, why didn’t you send me away then? Now you’re just lying down and you’ve flipped the script? You flip faster than flipping a book."
The nurse, doing her duty, chimed in, "She's still on the drip; she can’t be left alone."
Rosemary: ... Fine.
Three years into the marriage, she hadn’t enjoyed the perks of having a husband anyway. Now, she might as well consider this as him making up for the past neglect.
With that thought, she naturally closed her eyes, exhausted from all the tossing and turning the whole night...
After the nurse finished setting up the IV and left with her tray, the cold liquid dripped into her veins, soon making her arm below the elbow icy cold.
Rosemary lifted her hand. "Go get me a hot water bottle, stuff it under my palm."
Maxwell, seated with his arms crossed, eyes closed pretending to rest, glanced at her at her request.
The main lights in the ward were off, leaving only a small night light above the bed, providing just enough light to see around without disturbing others.
The woman lay on her side, most of her face buried in the soft pillow; the small part that was visible was as pale as paper. Her eyes closed, her eyelashes cast thick, dark shadows on her face.
Whether from the cold or the stomach pain, she wasn’t sleeping peacefully, her brows were furrowed, a look of discomfort on her face.
Maxwell sat there, his gaze landing on the woman’s pale lips, his tall, lean body unmoving for a long time, until Rosemary, in a half-sleep chilled state, stirred and he finally stood up and left.
Rosemary's hands and feet always turned ice-cold in winter, and the hospital's blankets were those thin, stiff kind. Although exhausted, she couldn’t fall deeply asleep, her thoughts in a groggy state.
After some time, two warm things were tucked into the chilly bed, one under the palm of her hand with the IV, and the other at her feet.

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