Chapter 6 Meeting at the Hospital

The pediatric wing at night was much quieter than during the day.

The waiting room screen continuously scrolled through names, and nurses occasionally came out to call patients.

Parents spoke in hushed tones, trying to soothe their crying children.

John sat on a bench by the window, his arm wrapped in thick bandages.

The nurse's instructions still echoed in his ears.

He rested his arm on a cushion, his gaze somewhat vacant.

"Hey John, the doctor needs to check your wound again soon, so don't wander off," a nurse reminded him, peeking out from a doorway.

"Okay, thanks," John replied softly.

James had gone with their dad to get drinks, leaving John alone in the waiting area.

A boy who looked a year or two younger than John sat a seat away from him.

The boy had a backpack at his feet and a thick book titled "Human Anatomy" beside him.

He was sketching diagrams from the book with a pencil.

John couldn't help but glance over a few times.

The boy looked up, his eyes bright, but quickly looked down again, seeming a bit shy.

"Are you waiting for a check-up too?" John asked, breaking the silence.

"No, I'm waiting for my uncle to pick me up," the boy replied. "What about you?"

"I'm waiting for the nurse to say I can leave," John said, lifting his arm slightly and wincing. "I just fell and scraped my arm on some steps, but it bled a lot."

The boy glanced at John's bandaged arm seriously. "Is it because your blood doesn't clot easily?"

John was taken aback, his eyes widening. "How did you know?"

"I read about it in my book," the boy said earnestly, putting down his pencil. "Some people have fewer platelets, so they bleed more."

John bit his lip and nodded. "Yeah, that's me. Even a small cut takes forever to stop bleeding. My mom says I'm more at risk, so I have to be careful."

His voice grew quieter as he spoke, and he tried to lift his arm again. "The doctor said to keep pressure on it and not to remove the bandage, or it could get worse."

"That's right," the boy quickly agreed. "You need to apply pressure, keep it elevated, and you can use ice packs too. You remembered everything."

John looked at him, a spark of light in his eyes. "I know those things, but not much else." He paused, seeming a bit envious. "You seem to know a lot."

The boy smiled slightly and pointed to his book. "I'm Julian. I like this stuff. I want to be a doctor someday."

"I'm John," John said seriously, a smile spreading across his face. "Then you'll be able to help a lot of people, right?"

Julian smiled back, nodding. "Yeah, I'll do my best."

The atmosphere lightened up.

Two young boys, one carefully protecting his arm and the other holding a thick book, found themselves chatting easily.

"John, come over to get your bandage changed!" a nurse called from down the hall.

"Coming," John said, standing up.

He paused and pulled an unopened mint candy from his pocket. "Do you want this?"

"Thanks," Julian said, taking the candy. "You should go."

John nodded and jogged a few steps.

At the other end of the hallway, the elevator doors opened, and a man in a black jacket stepped out.

He was tall, with a straight posture that hinted at some kind of training.

The man immediately spotted Julian on the bench and called out, "Julian."

Julian looked up. "Uncle."

It was Theodore White.

Theodore draped his coat over his arm, picked up Julian's backpack, and glanced at the half-finished drawing. "Drawing bones again?"

"Yeah," Julian said, blinking as he put away his pencil. "I drew it while I was waiting."

Theodore ruffled Julian's hair. "Kids should draw animals or something. Staring at these all the time will strain your eyes."

"But I like it," Julian protested earnestly. "And drawing bones is fun too."

"Alright," Theodore chuckled. "If you like it, keep at it. When you become a doctor, I'll be your first patient."

Julian's eyes crinkled with a smile, and he nodded obediently.

The door to the treatment room opened.

John emerged, holding his newly bandaged arm.

He saw Julian standing with a tall man and wondered, 'Is that Julian's dad?'

He seemed different from his dad.

Arthur was often stern, though he had his gentle moments.

Most of the time, he was very strict with John and James.

But Julian's dad, though he looked a bit intimidating, seemed very gentle when he spoke to Julian.

John couldn't help but run a few steps. "Julian!"

Julian looked up, his eyes lighting up. "You're out?"

"Yeah," John said, lifting his bandaged arm. "The nurse said I'm good to go, just need to be careful."

Theodore glanced at John and nodded. "Be careful, kid."

The man's voice was neither warm nor cold, but it made John feel a bit nervous.

As they were talking, hurried footsteps echoed down the hallway.

James came running, out of breath, holding two bottles of drinks. "John, Dad's waiting downstairs. We need to go home."

"Okay," John replied, turning to wave at Julian. "See you next time!"

Julian waved back. "Bye!"

"Bye!" James echoed, his eyes curiously scanning Julian and Theodore.

Theodore nodded slightly in greeting and turned to lead Julian towards the elevator.

John watched them walk away, a thought suddenly popping into his head, 'I hope we meet again.'

Outside the pediatric wing, a black car idled for a moment. The man inside answered a call.

"Mr. Collins, the hospital reports that John is stable and there's no major issue."

"Good," Arthur said, closing his eyes briefly.

The assistant's message followed quickly: [In the waiting area, we noticed John talking to another boy around his age. Later, a man from the White family picked up the other child. Records show this man was also at the hospital tonight, seen around the rehabilitation department, but his exact purpose is unclear.]

[Do we have any photos?]

[The angle is tricky, so it's not clear. We only have a shot of his back.]

Arthur's fingers tapped lightly on the steering wheel, shadows deepening in his eyes.

He didn't speak immediately, just looked up at the pediatric wing's brightly lit windows.

For a moment, it seemed like he could see through the glass to the small figures in the hallway—John, Julian, and Theodore.

"Investigate," he said coldly. "Anything related to the White family, I want to know every detail. I need to see what they're up to."

As his words fell, the night wind swept through the car window.

Arthur's fingers tightened, the tension inside him coiling tighter.