Just as Guinevere left, two more uninvited guests arrived.
Henry was not a fan of interruptions. When he saw Weston and Xavier enter, his expression remained unreadable.
Both men were strikingly handsome. As they passed through the corridor, many people couldn’t help but glance in their direction. The young nurses blushed, especially when they saw Weston. One of the nurses, her face tinged pink, cautiously approached Henry. “Mr. Moore, there are two gentlemen here to see you.”
Noticing the nurse’s flushed face, Henry’s mind wandered. He thought of someone else who would also blush easily. She wasn’t a nurse, but a bodyguard—someone who seemed anything but suited to protecting others. She would turn red every time he teased her, no matter how innocently, which made her appear more vulnerable than capable.
He shifted his gaze back to the nurse, now intrigued by her reaction. “Tell me, who do you think is more handsome—me, or them?”
The nurse was caught off guard by the question and froze, her eyes darting between Henry and the two men. After a few seconds of hesitation, she actually began considering the question seriously. She glanced at him, then at Weston and Xavier, who could easily rival even the most famous actors. Weston, in particular, exuded an aura of power and confidence. The nurse couldn’t help but glance back at him, though she dared not look directly into his eyes. Weston was always the center of attention wherever he went.
As for Xavier, he had the charm of a popular male star. His friendly demeanor and radiant smile made her blush even more. Just as she was about to give her answer, Henry waved dismissively. “That’ll be enough. You can go now.”
“Oh… okay,” she stammered, her cheeks even redder as she quickly left the room, closing the door behind her for some privacy.
Henry didn’t even glance at the door once it was shut. His interest faded immediately.
He found it all quite dull. The nurse wasn’t like her. If it had been her, she might have blushed too, but she wouldn’t have fumbled with her words like that.
Since that time, he had met many people who resembled her, but in very small ways. The differences far outweighed the similarities. Why couldn’t he find someone exactly like her? That thought irked him. He pushed the frustration aside as he shifted his attention back to the two men who had entered.
“What’s up?” Henry asked, wheeling himself onto the balcony to soak in the sun. He had grown accustomed to his sickly appearance and to Weston’s silent presence. Without a word, Weston sat on the sofa and began reading the newspaper.
Xavier, on the other hand, shook his head in exasperation before joining Henry on the balcony. Leaning against the railing, he pulled out a pack of cigarettes and offered one to Henry.
“Want one?”
Henry barely acknowledged him, too tired to even look his way. “I’m a patient now. Do you really think smoking is appropriate?”
Xavier laughed, taking a drag from his cigarette. “You’ve got a broken leg, not a broken mouth. You can still smoke, can’t you?”
Henry closed his eyes, savoring the warmth of the sun, and didn’t respond.
After a moment of silence, Xavier spoke up again. “Do you really plan to stay in that wheelchair for the rest of your life?”
Xavier wasn’t very close to Henry, but being Weston’s uncle and aware of the complicated history between the two, he had become somewhat familiar with Henry. His tone was a mix of curiosity and concern, even if he wasn’t particularly invested in the matter.
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