Free Web NovelChapter 630: Chapter 630: Are We a Match Made in Heaven?
Chloe Reed shot to her feet.
Dylan Finch quickly said, "Mrs. Grant, please don’t worry. Mr. Grant was moved to a regular ward, which means he’s definitely out of danger."
The doctor returned just then and nodded upon hearing Dylan Finch. "Yes, Mr. Grant is no longer in critical condition. He’ll recover as long as he gets plenty of rest from now on. It’s just..."
Chloe Reed’s breath caught in her throat, and she looked at the doctor with desperation.
Dylan Finch’s brow furrowed slightly. "Just what?"
The doctor sighed. "It’s his eyes. We’ve tried everything we can think of, but we still haven’t been able to restore his sight. His symptoms are exceptionally rare, and my abilities are limited. Perhaps you could consult a world-class specialist. There might still be hope for recovery."
Dylan Finch nodded. "Okay, I understand."
Then, he turned to Chloe Reed. "Mrs. Grant, shall we go see Mr. Grant?"
Chloe Reed nodded slowly, her gaze vacant as the doctor’s words echoed relentlessly in her mind.
’His sight can’t be restored.’
’He... will never see again?’
The moment she realized this, it felt as if an invisible hand had seized Chloe Reed’s heart, squeezing so tightly she could barely breathe.
She quickly took several deep breaths, forcing herself to calm down.
They entered the hospital room together and saw Walker Grant lying on the bed. His eyes were wrapped in gauze, his features were somewhat gaunt, and he was wearing an oxygen mask.
"Mr. Grant."
Dylan Finch stepped forward, his voice filled with relief. "How are you feeling now, sir?"
Walker Grant’s thin, chapped lips moved. His voice was raspy. "What about Chloe Reed? How is she?"
Dylan Finch said, "Mrs. Grant is fine. She wasn’t injured. It’s just..."
At this, Walker Grant’s tone instantly turned cold. "Just what? Spit it out!"
Dylan Finch sighed softly. "Mrs. Grant’s throat was damaged by the poison. She won’t be able to speak for a while."
Hearing this, Walker Grant tried to sit up.
The next second, a small, cool hand pressed on his shoulder, stopping him from rising.
Her unique scent washed over him. Then, cool fingertips touched his palm, tracing a message one stroke at a time.
—*Stay still.*
Walker Grant instantly caught her hand, his voice growing even raspier. "Chloe..."
Then he remembered she couldn’t speak. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed his bitter feelings and said, "Dylan Finch, find the best doctors in the world. You have to get her throat cured!"
"Yes, sir."
Dylan Finch’s tone was exceptionally grave. He immediately turned and left to carry out the order.
The hospital room fell silent.
Walker Grant kept holding her hand. He twisted his lips into a bitter smile and said, "Chloe, aren’t we quite a pair? I’m blind, and you’re mute."
Chloe Reed pulled her hand free, pressed on him to keep him from moving, and began to write in his palm.
—*That joke isn’t funny at all. You’ll get better, and so will I.*
"Yeah."
Walker Grant agreed. "We’ll both get better."
Then, he asked, "Can I touch your face? Just so I know you’re okay."
He paused, his voice laced with loneliness. "I can’t see you. Even though they said you’re fine, I’m still worried. If you don’t want me to..."
Before he could finish, her small, cool hand took his and pressed it against her soft cheek.
Walker Grant’s fingertips froze for a moment before he began to gently touch her face.
But soon, he felt a cool dampness. His fingertips trembled as he gently followed the trail of moisture, finding its source.
"Don’t cry, Chloe. I’m okay."
