Chapter 483
Natalie found herself lying on the cold examination table, her attention unintentionally drawn to her bare ring finger as the doctor positioned the X-ray machine above her lower leg. She had shifted her body slightly for the imaging, and without thinking, clenched her fingers into a fist, noting the unsettling emptiness where her ring normally rested.
"Mrs. Windsor, are you experiencing any other discomfort?"
The nurse assisted Natalie into a seated position.
Natalie shook her head in response.
"Mr. Windsor was very worried when he mentioned your fall," the young nurse said quietly, offering a knowing smile. "He made sure to ask about your well-being. I've seen the rumors about you and Mr. Windsor online. I'm a big fan!"
"A fan?" Natalie was taken aback and puzzled.
"Yes! Aren't you aware?"
The nurse smiled, but the smile faded under the sharp gaze of a passing senior nurse.
The idea that so many were cheering for her and Oliver, despite the reality of their strained relationship, struck Natalie as absurd yet amusing.
Following additional tests, Natalie exited the examination room to find Oliver waiting outside, casually smoking against the wall. He blew a smoke ring, which gradually dispersed, momentarily obscuring his face.
"You’re not allowed to smoke here," Natalie remarked, gesturing at the cigarette.
With a slight frown, Oliver extinguished the cigarette on the lid of the adjacent trash bin.
The doctor's assessment was delivered swiftly, revealing that Natalie's condition had worsened. Her shin bone, previously healing, had sustained further damage from her fall. He shook his head, torn between faulting the patient for her lack of caution and the family member responsible for her care.
"Mrs. Windsor, beyond the damage to your leg, you’re also suffering from malnutrition," the doctor informed her seriously. "Your physical condition is hindering your body's natural ability to heal."
Natalie sat silently, her hands neatly folded on her lap. Each day, as she faced her reflection, even she could see her face thinning and the gradual decline of her physique—a stark testament to the critical state of her health.
Oliver, standing next to Natalie’s wheelchair, noticed only her increasingly hollow cheeks and pronounced chin from his vantage point. He said firmly, “Tell me about the treatment plan.”
"The previous specialist likely suggested surgery for Mrs. Windsor, and I concur with that recommendation," the doctor detailed, "Your recovery hasn’t progressed as expected. One contributing factor is inadequate nutritional intake, and another is the additional injury you've sustained."
Natalie clenched her hands tightly, pausing before asking, "Is there absolutely no possibility for natural healing?"
The doctor, typically resolute in his consultations, hesitated, weighing his words carefully before such distinguished figures.
Oliver gave a slight nod.
"While foregoing surgery might lead to natural healing, it's important to consider the risks—improper bone fusion is a significant concern. Should that occur, surgery might become unavoidable, potentially compounding your difficulties."
"And the probability of such risk?" Oliver pressed.
"Fifty percent," the doctor disclosed.
"I'll heal on my own," Natalie declared with determination and stubbornness.
"And Mr. Windsor?" pressed the doctor, who was quite against this approach.
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