Back to the ‘70s: My Life as the Trouble-Maker's Bride

During the entire ride, Annette didn't have the mind to enjoy the passing scenery. By the time they finally reached the hospital, she felt like her body was about to fall apart.

The city hospital was housed in an old Soviet-style expert building left behind after international aid. Once the foreign staff had left, the building had been repurposed into a hospital. The wooden floors and staircases had long become warped and uneven from years of wear.

Annette glanced around curiously. Even the old propaganda slogans half-faded on the walls seemed oddly novel to her.

She quickly followed Richard and Kyle toward the inpatient ward.

Stuart had been placed in a private room. There was only one peeling iron bed, a nightstand, and two chairs—everything was plain and utilitarian.

When Annette entered the room behind Richard, she saw Charlotte crouched beside Stuart's bed, gently wiping his hands with a damp towel.

Richard didn't think much of it. After all, Charlotte was a doctor. The moment he stepped in, he asked anxiously, "What's the situation? How's Stuart doing?"

Charlotte seemed startled, as if she'd only just noticed them. She quickly stood up, her eyes red. "They said his lower back and leg were injured. We won't know if he can walk again until he regains consciousness."

As she spoke, she cast a sidelong glance at Annette, her voice growing choked. "He only got hurt because he was trying to save me…"

Annette sneered inwardly. Thank goodness neither she nor the original Annette had any deep feelings for Stuart. Otherwise, that half-sincere tone and damsel-in-distress routine might have genuinely caused a misunderstanding.

Richard furrowed his brows and walked over to look at Stuart's unconscious figure. "He'll be fine. That boy has a tough life—he made it through a minefield once, this is nothing."

As he spoke, he looked over at Annette, half-reassuring himself and half-comforting her. "Annette, don't worry. Stuart's like a cat—nine lives. He'll pull through."

Annette nodded solemnly. "I believe he'll be okay too."

After standing silently for a moment longer, Richard turned to her. "You'll have a hard time these next few days. I'll have Kyle leave you some food coupons and cash. If you need anything, just let me know."

Annette had made it into the city early; she was honestly more relieved than anything. She wasn't about to ask for more. "No problem. It's my duty as his wife."

Richard gave her a few more instructions before he and Kyle left to speak with the doctors about Stuart's condition.

The room fell quiet, leaving only Annette and Charlotte. Charlotte, however, showed no intention of leaving. With a gentle smile, she said, "Annette, I'd like to stay and help you care for Stuart. After all, he was injured saving me… and I'm a doctor, so I might be of more help."

Annette's smile turned icy. "I'm not so sure about that. And let's be honest—you're an unmarried young woman. Caring for a married man? That wouldn't reflect well on your reputation. I wouldn't want to ruin your name."

Charlotte was momentarily speechless, lips trembling as her eyes reddened. "I just… I'm worried about Stuart…"

Annette didn't care for her act. She stepped aside and motioned to the door. "No need. I'm here. That's enough."

Her cold, firm tone left no room for argument. Charlotte hesitated, then finally left—casting one last wistful glance at Stuart before dragging her feet out the door.

Annette clicked her tongue. Supposedly he'd been injured rescuing a villager, but this was starting to sound like some heroic save-the-beauty story. If Stuart weren't already married, Charlotte would probably be offering herself to him by now.

Despite her annoyance, Annette shut the door and walked over to examine Stuart more closely.

She gently turned him over and lifted his shirt. There were scrapes and dried blood on his back—mostly superficial—but the injury clearly went deeper.

As she pressed along his waist, she noticed old scars crisscrossing his back, including a deep blade wound along his side.

Annette had seen countless serious injuries in her past life, many worse than this, but for some reason, the sight of Stuart's battered body stirred a deep ache in her heart. This quiet, stoic man had clearly endured so much, likely never telling a soul.

She composed herself and continued examining his spine inch by inch. As she worked, she pulled down his pants for a better look, her expression gradually growing grim.

From her years of medical experience, she could tell his spine was intact. So how had someone come to the conclusion that his back and legs were at risk? That he might not walk again?

To be safe, she flipped Stuart onto his back and pressed along his abdomen.

The more she touched, the more alarmed she became. Not bothering to fix his pants, she sprinted out to find the doctors.

Richard and Kyle were still speaking with the attending physician when she barged into the office.

"He has internal bleeding!" she blurted. "He needs immediate surgery!"

The doctor, who had been all smiles with Richard, instantly darkened. "Are you the doctor, or am I?"

Annette didn't waste time arguing. She turned to Richard. "Sir, he's bleeding internally. If we delay any longer, it could cost him his life. If you don't believe me, call a consult with the chief of surgery!"

The doctor slammed the table and stood up. "Who are you to barge in and cause a scene? If you think you're so capable, why don't you operate on him yourself?"

Richard's face darkened. He gave the doctor a hard look, then turned to Kyle. "Quick, get him to the military hospital. Now!"

Kyle rushed off immediately.

The doctor, now panicking, tried to block their path. "What are you doing? I'm the doctor in charge! You need to respect my authority! If something happens to the patient in transit, I won't be responsible!"

Richard shoved him aside and called to Annette, "Let's go!"

Stuart was transferred urgently to the military hospital. Fortunately, Richard was a familiar face there, and Stuart was quickly admitted to surgery.

Standing outside the operating room, Annette listened to the surgeon's diagnosis—it matched her assessment: a ruptured spleen causing heavy internal bleeding. The damage wasn't fully clear yet, but they had caught it in time. He hadn't gone into shock.

She finally let out a breath of relief… though confusion lingered. Even given the limited medical resources, how had such a critical misdiagnosis happened?

And if Richard had such strong ties to the military hospital, why hadn't Stuart been brought here in the first place? The city hospital was just two kilometers away, but the level of care was vastly different.

Richard exhaled deeply. "We're lucky you caught it. I don't know how to thank you."

Annette shook her head. "It was my duty. But why wasn't he brought here right away? That city hospital—do they not have any other qualified doctors?"

Even if they arrived at night, wasn't there at least one other doctor on duty? And to have someone so incompetent as the attending physician—how did that happen? Even for a small hospital, that was inexcusable.