The Wife he threw Away (Claire and Lucian) novel Chapter 272

By the time Claire arrived at the hospital, I had already woken up.

I had spent most of the morning staring at the ceiling, wondering how long it would take before I was allowed to leave this place.

For most of my life, I had hated hospitals. The antiseptic smell of it and settle colors always triggered anxiety I didn’t know I had.

Hospitals carried the memories of the worst days of my life— the last days of my mother’s.

And now, every time I looked around the room, I remembered why I was here.

Hart.

The bullet.

The knife.

Claire beside my bed when I couldn’t even open my eyes.

I didn’t want to remember any of it.

I wanted to go home. I wanted my life back. And more than anything, I wanted Claire back in it.

Then the door opened and Claire walked in carrying her handbag.

The moment I saw her, a smile lit up my face. “There you are.”

She smiled back. “Hi.”

She walked toward me and stopped beside the bed, studying me with steady brown eyes.

I raised an eyebrow. “What?”

“You look better.”

“I told you I was getting better.”

“I know.” She reached out and gently touched my cheek.

The gesture was so natural that for a moment, all I could do was stare at her.

“You really do look better,” she said quietly.

I caught her hand before she could pull it away.

“And you look beautiful.” I said, as I kissed the back of her hand.

She rolled her eyes. “You say that every time you see me.”

“Because it’s true every time I see you.”

Claire struggled to hide her smile this time. “You’re getting very cheesy.”

“I almost died. I’m allowed.”

She laughed.

God, I loved that sound.

I hadn’t realized how much I’d missed hearing it until recently.

“How was your morning?” I asked.

“Margot gave me the day off.” She replied, pouting lightly.

I frowned. “Why?”

“Because apparently I’m becoming unbearable.”

I smiled. “That sounds accurate.”

Claire slapped my arm lightly.

I immediately winced.

Her expression changed at once. “Oh my God. I’m sorry.”

I laughed. “You should see your face.”

“You’re horrible!” She cried.

“I know.”

She sat beside me.

For a while, we simply talked about random things.

Nothing important. Nothing that needed lawyers or evidence or strategy.

Just us.

It was strange how much I had begun to crave ordinary moments. After everything that had happened, ordinary felt like a luxury.

A knock sounded at the door.

One of the doctors walked in with a nurse.

“Good morning.”

“Morning,” I replied.

The doctor checked my chart before examining me.

He asked a few questions about how I was feeling. Whether the pain had increased, and if I’d been sleeping.

I answered everything honestly. Well— mostly honestly.

I didn’t mention that I had spent part of the previous night working on my tablet.

Claire would have told him.

The doctor finished examining me and looked at us.

“If everything continues this way, I think we can discharge you in a few days.”

Claire’s face immediately brightened. “Really?”

I felt something inside me loosen.

“Finally.” I heaved a sigh of relief.

The doctor laughed. “Don’t celebrate just yet.”

I frowned. “You just said—”

“I said you could be discharged. I didn’t say you were fully recovered.”

He pointed at me. “No gym for several weeks.”

I sighed.

He continued. “No heavy lifting, no working excessively.”

I looked at Claire. She was smiling too.

The doctor noticed. “You agree with me, don’t you, Ms. Moreau?”

“Absolutely.”

I stared at both of them. “This feels like a conspiracy.”

The nurse laughed.

The doctor shook his head. “You’ll need rest even after you’re discharged. Your body has been through significant trauma.”

“I understand.”

The doctor gave me a skeptical look. “Do you?”

Claire answered for me. “He does.”

I looked at her. “You’re enjoying this.”

“Very much.” She replied haughtily.

The doctor smiled. “I’ll leave you two to it.”

Once the door closed behind them, Claire turned toward me.

“You heard him.”

“I heard him.”

“You’re going to rest.”

“I’ll try.”

“Lucian.”

I smiled. “Fine.”

She looked satisfied.

Then she glanced at the clock. “Have you eaten?”

“Yes.”

“What did you eat?”

I hesitated.

She narrowed her eyes.

“Hospital food?”

“Yes.”

She made a face.

“That’s unfortunate.”

I laughed.

“What?”

“I’ve been eating it for days.”

“And you’ve survived.”

“Barely.”

She smiled.

“Then let’s go out.”

I stared at her.

“Go out?”

“For lunch.”

I looked down at myself.

“Claire, I’m still injured.”

“You’re walking.”

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