Teasingly, the doctor continued, âDid you cry? Itâs hard to believe that someone as composed as you would cry over a minor injury to your wife and even hide away to cry alone!â
Lyndon was taken aback.
Why would they assume he had cried?
Well, he had indeed shed a few tears just now, but not for the reasons they assumed.
He felt speechless, tempted to deny it, but when he glanced at Tilda and saw her avoiding his gaze, a hint of embarrassment on her face, he decided against it.
Lyndon returned the doctorâs coat and took Tildaâs own coat from Elma, gently draping it over her shoulders.
âTilda is my wife, and she got hurt because of me.
Isnât it natural for me to be concerned?â he said, his voice filled with quiet intensity.
Tilda felt her cheeks flush.
No way!
Did Lyndon.
.
Did he really cry somewhere because she got hurt?
He didnât have to be so concerned!
It wasnât entirely for him!
She was afraid Evita would hurt their son!
She thought this was a big misunderstanding.
âYes, itâs natural,â the doctor replied with a smile, feeling the warmth between them.
âJust be careful with your wifeâs wound.
Keep it dry.
If she needs to bathe, make sure to avoid getting it wet.
â
Lyndon nodded.
âIf she needs to bathe, Iâll help her.
â
Tildaâs eyes widened.
Who asked for his help?
She could just ask for Elma instead.
They bid farewell to the doctor and left the hospital.
Once in the car, Lyndon received a call from his assistant.
âMr.
Fernandez, the police have taken Evita from her home.
Her father called, pleading for her release.
He said they would pay any amount of compensation.
â
Lyndonâs face hardened.
âDo I look like I need money?â he replied coldly.
âNo, sir.
So, what should we do next?â the assistant asked.