Scum Daddy Dreams Of Stealing My Mommy!
Chapter 372: Who allowed you to pounce?!

Chapter 372: Chapter 372: Who allowed you to pounce?!

The nurse said, "Are you talking about Mr. Hart? If he’s not in the ward, he should be over in the rehabilitation department."

"Rehabilitation department?"

"Yes, on the fourth floor of the south building."

"Okay, thank you."

Amelia went to find the south building, feeling puzzled and confused.

It’s already ten o’clock. Why isn’t he resting but going to the rehabilitation department?

Could it be that he’s not feeling well?

Thinking of his frail and battered body, he really should be resting well, but these days, instead of having time to rest, he’s been rushing around, staying up late, exhausting himself, worrying...

Her heart tightened more and more, and she couldn’t help but quicken her pace.

Finding the rehabilitation department, she immediately saw a familiar figure through the tempered glass door, her hurried steps suddenly slowed, her gaze quietly fixed on that person.

It turns out... he’s not feeling unwell, he’s taking advantage of the late night’s brief leisure to do rehabilitation therapy.

Three doctors surrounded him, one looking older, presumably the attending doctor, and the other two younger ones, probably the physical therapists.

Christopher’s legs were equipped with rehabilitation devices, with protective bars on either side of his body, and the screen on the side of the equipment displayed some data indicators, which looked very profound and complex.

With the help of external force and the assistance of the doctors on both sides, his whole body maintained an upright posture.

But from his tense and stiff upper body, it was clear that despite all the external help, this simple standing motion was still difficult for him.

As the attending doctor gave instructions, his legs alternated to perform some very simple movements.

But even those simple movements were extremely difficult and slow.

His hands tightly grasped the handrails on either side of the equipment, his arms trembling violently from the tension.

Amelia stood at the doorway, staring blankly for a long time.

During this time, she had become used to seeing him sitting in a wheelchair. Today, suddenly seeing him standing upright, she realized how tall his figure was; even just a silhouette could give a strong reassuring strength.

But she didn’t know if she should go in.

Because Christopher had been doing rehabilitation therapy for some time, but he had never talked about the details or complained about the hardship, probably not wanting her to know about his struggles and helplessness during rehab.

Perhaps it was pride, or maybe he didn’t want her to worry.

And she had been preoccupied with chaotic matters these days, not thinking about how difficult his rehab was until today, accidentally witnessing this scene that struck hard at her heart, making her nose tingle with heartache, almost bringing her to tears.

Since he didn’t want her to know, she would continue to pretend not to know.

After adjusting her emotions, as she turned to leave, she suddenly heard a terrifying sound from inside.

She was startled, abruptly turned back, and saw that tall, thin man falling awkwardly, kneeling on the ground, and the two young doctors exerted themselves several times but could not pull him up.

The woman’s heart squeezed tightly, eyes fixed on the person inside, secretly cheering him on—Come on! Hold on! You can definitely stand up!

Kneeling on the ground, Christopher struggled for a while, and finally, with the aid of the doctors, stood up again.

She also breathed a sigh of relief, and as her cheeks relaxed, her jaw subtly trembled.

The attending doctor spoke to him, communicating something unknown, he shook his head.

Although Amelia couldn’t hear their conversation, she could imagine what Christopher’s head shake meant.

The doctor must have suggested a rest, but he refused, insisting on continuing the practice.

Strong-willed, stubborn, unyielding, ruthless even to himself—this was the essence of Christopher.

She originally didn’t want to intrude upon his vulnerable and challenging side, but seeing him mistreat his own body like this, she really couldn’t stand by.

As he continued to persist in his training, Amelia quietly opened the door and walked in.

The doctors saw her and were about to speak, but she shook her head to stop them.

The attending doctor was also smart, understanding Amelia’s identity immediately, his expression relaxed a bit.

It was just the right time; they couldn’t persuade him, but surely someone could.

Otherwise, continuing to train like this might only cause secondary injuries, and it would be counterproductive.

The two young doctors, following their teacher’s eye signals, quietly withdrew.

Christopher stood alone by the equipment, persisting in training according to the screen’s prompts.

In the bitter cold of midwinter, the rehab room had no heating, yet he was drenched in sweat, sweat droplets forming on the tip of his lowered nose and chin, rolling down one by one.

Amelia walked to his side and stood there.

Getting closer, she could finally see what was displayed on the equipment’s screen.

It turned out that the electrodes on his legs could provide real-time feedback to the main unit on the activity of his leg muscles, so as to better assess muscle and nerve recovery, and treat the atrophied muscles and degraded motor nerves accordingly.

Actually, Christopher had been doing this training for some time, with slow results.

Originally, he wasn’t in such a hurry, knowing that rehabilitation training wasn’t an overnight task.

But with so many things happening recently, his mindset gradually became anxious, hoping to recover quickly, hoping to return to normal, hoping to provide constant protection to those he cared about.

He gradually began to detest this feeble state of his.

The screen repeatedly prompted for a movement, and because the range was insufficient, the machine received no feedback, persistently reminding him, "Try again." Initially, he patiently repeated it, but when the fourth and fifth attempts still failed, anger visibly appeared on his face.

He was fully focused, contending with the machine, and contending with himself, so absorbed that he didn’t even notice Amelia standing beside him for a long time.

Until, exhausted, unable to hold his breath any longer, his legs gave out, and he collapsed again!

"Careful!"

Amelia had already been holding her breath for him, and seeing him suddenly fall, she quickly circled the guard rails and caught him head-on.

But Christopher fell in exhaustion, like a heap of mud in a drunken state, completely unable to support himself, and her slender body couldn’t bear the weight.

Thus, Amelia was heavily pressed down, acting as a cushion.

She was in so much pain that her features contorted, but after falling, she immediately looked up at him, "Are you okay?"

Christopher was stunned, staring at her for a few seconds, finally asking in disbelief, "Why are you here?"

The next second, he quickly helped her sit up, his large hand reaching back of her head, "Did you hit it? Are you hurt?"

"No..." Once she sat up, she ignored her own numbingly painful back and instead grabbed Christopher, inspecting him up and down, "How are you? Did you hurt your legs again? Does it hurt?"

If only Christopher’s legs could feel pain that easily, that would indeed be a good thing.

"I’m fine..." he replied, his eyes fixed on her, and suddenly, for some reason, anger welled up, "Are you stupid? Who told you to rush in? What if you got hurt crashing into the equipment here?"

Amelia’s mind was muddled from the fall, not yet recovered, and suddenly being harshly scolded by him, she was stunned, looking at him with wide eyes.

Christopher grew angrier, "Why are you staring at me? Did I say anything wrong?"