Mikayla couldn’t bear to look anymore. He had already heard the description of Jaquan’s injuries, which were truly horrifying.
The door to the operating room opened, and a nurse hurried out, asking anxiously, “The patient is losing too much blood and is gradually losing consciousness. We don’t have time to get more blood. Is anyone here B-type?”
The man sitting nearby immediately shook his head. Callie, who was in a daze, was jolted awake and looked at the nurse, “Is it that serious?”
The nurse, who was already impatient, snapped back, “How do you think I would joke about something like this if it weren’t serious?”
Callie’s heart raced with panic. Finally, she raised her hand, “I’m B-type.”
The nurse looked at her in surprise for a moment before grabbing her hand and rushing her to donate blood. Her steps were hurried, indicating the urgency.
Callie was taken to a small room where the nurse quickly rolled up her sleeve and tied a tourniquet around her arm. As she performed these actions, Callie stared blankly at her, “Nurse, will he die?”
Still annoyed by Callie’s earlier question, the nurse replied curtly, “He was trapped in a confined space for too long, nearly suffocating. Then he was stabbed in the side with a knife inside the car, losing a lot of blood.”
The nurse found Callie’s vein and inserted the needle slowly, “Hold still, it will hurt a bit.”
Callie winced in pain and furrowed her brows.
“Who keeps a knife in their car? It’s like asking for trouble.”
Perhaps due to the pain and feeling her blood being drawn out, Callie bit her lip tightly and said in a hoarse voice, “Exactly, he deserves it.”
Three hundred milliliters of blood is a lot for a woman. Callie’s face turned pale. The nurse stopped drawing blood, “That’s enough.”
But Callie grabbed her and shook her head, “Take more, just in case it’s not enough.”
In the end, they drew four hundred milliliters. The nurse refused to take any more and led her out, “We can’t take any more; it would be dangerous for you. You need to rest.”
With that, she ran back into the operating room.
Mikayla came up with an armful of milk and sugar, pulling Callie to sit down and handing her the items, “Miss Marsh, thank you for your help.”
Three hours later, Jaquan was wheeled out of the operating room.
Callie stood on tiptoe, peering through the window at the man lying quietly in his hospital gown. His face was pale, nothing like his usual spirited self.
The doctor explained to Mikayla nearby, “He needs to stay in the ICU for two days. If he wakes up without any issues, he can be moved to a regular ward.”
“Miss Marsh,” Mikayla said nervously.
“I’ll stay for two days; after that, I won’t be involved,” she replied.
He wiped his sweat and sighed in relief, “Alright.”
She sat outside the ICU. Her phone and laptop were both dead. Mikayla stayed with her, pacing back and forth while constantly making and receiving calls to handle Jaquan’s affairs.
He gave a large sum of money to the man who had acted bravely. The man was honest and refused to accept it, but Mikayla insisted.
He immediately blocked any news from spreading to avoid rumors.
On the first night, the doctor checked on Jaquan twice. He did not wake up.
When the nurse came to change his medication, she was curious about the woman who hadn’t taken off her mask.
She sat down and asked Callie, “Are you his girlfriend?”
Callie raised an eyebrow, thinking that this nurse probably never read entertainment news, “No, I’m not.”