Left alone, Leanna sat stiffly on the edge of the examination table, unsure of what to do next.
Not long after, the door opened again. The instant she looked up and saw who had entered, her entire body went rigid.
"How long have you been experiencing these symptoms?" The deep, familiar voice echoed in her ears, sending a tremor through her chest.
The man wore a surgical mask that concealed most of his face, but behind a pair of rimless glasses, his eyes were trained on her.
"Three... months," Leanna blurted out. She immediately dropped her eyes, gripping the hem of her skirt tightly with both hands.
She wished desperately that she could disappear.
She had only returned to Clegend two months ago, yet she had already run into Shane Lloyd in the most unexpected way.
Her thoughts stalled completely, leaving her uncertain how to react.
"Lie back and lift your shirt," Shane instructed in his deep voice.
Leanna glanced up, and when their eyes locked once more, her breath faltered.
Noticing her hesitation, he frowned and asked rather impatiently, "Is something wrong?"
"No. Sorry," Leanna said quickly. Drawing in a steadying breath, she lay back on the examination table and shut her eyes.
Each second felt painfully long. Her thoughts tangled into a mess of old memories and panic, and a thin sheen of sweat formed at the tip of her nose.
Shane asked, "Did I hurt you?"
Leanna shook her head lightly. "No..."
After a pause that felt like forever, his voice finally broke the silence. "All right. You can lower your shirt now."
Shane rose and left. It was only after his footsteps faded from the room that Leanna finally dared to open her eyes.
She hurriedly adjusted her clothes, and then sat there briefly before standing and walking toward the desk.
Shane was seated upright, typing into the computer.
His long fingers looked almost exactly as they had back in school-the kind of hands that would have earned instant praise from any piano instructor.
He had never played the piano, though. The violin had always been his instrument. Back then, he had been surrounded by admirers, not just on campus but beyond it, even attracting fans from nearby cities.
And yet, out of everyone, he had chosen to start an online relationship with a freckled, overweight girl who hadn't even admired him that much.
"How long have you been feeling the aches?" Shane asked, glancing in her direction.
Leanna straightened her back, swallowed, and replied, "About twenty days."
She was convinced he hadn't recognized her.
No longer was she that freckled, overweight girl from the past, the girl once known as Melinda Brooks.
She had changed her name. She had lost the weight. The freckles she had inherited had faded completely. Even her own mother had struggled to recognize her at first, so there was no reason Shane would, especially after ten years.
That realization finally calmed her racing heart.
Shane's expression remained indifferent. "Do you usually go to bed late?" he asked.
Leanna hesitated before answering, "Does going to sleep at midnight count as staying up late?"
He had a small scowl on his face now. "From now on, try to sleep before eleven."
"Okay," she said obediently, as if responding to a superior.
Shane moved on to the next questions. "Are you married?"
"No."
"Have you ever had a child?"
"No."
By then, Leanna's palms were damp with cold sweat.
Maintaining a steady, clinical tone, Shane explained, "You have a benign breast lump. Mild pain and swelling are quite common. However, you should be mindful of your daily habits so the lump doesn't become malignant."
"Could it become cancer?" A wave of cold fear rushed through Leanna.
Shane looked at her more carefully. She was dressed simply, still young, her skin noticeably paler than moments ago. His words had clearly unsettled her.
"There's no need to panic," he said calmly. "Starting today, keep a regular routine and return for periodic follow-ups."
"Thank you, Sha-I mean, Dr. Lloyd," Leanna said, nearly calling him by his first name before correcting herself.
Shane tore the printed report from the machine and slid it across the desk. "Next time, you can book an appointment with me directly."
Leanna pursed her lips. "Could I see a different doctor?"
She kept her head bowed, desperate to leave as quickly as possible.
Shane paused, momentarily surprised, and then nodded. "That's fine."
"Thank you." Leanna took the report, not looking up, and hurried out of the room.
Shane watched her as she walked away, a slight crease between his brows.
A nurse nearby said in caution, "Dr. Lloyd, if you keep handling patients like that, you're going to get complaints."
Another doctor laughed. "He's not worried. He's one of the hospital's best. His schedule is packed every day."
Shane didn't respond. He was buried in consultations, and by the time he finished, it was already past one in the afternoon. He finally headed to the cafeteria.
"Finding you was harder than I thought." A man in a black suit appeared with a tray and sat down across from him.
Shane glanced up. "You're eating this late too?"
Jeff Bennett, the hospital director's assistant, nodded. "I ran into one of our high school classmates today-Lanny Barnett. He's marrying that girl from the class next door. He gave me the invitation and specifically asked me to make sure you attend."
Over the years, Shane had been to plenty of classmates' weddings. At twenty-eight, it was the age when most people had already begun settling down.
"His girlfriend was in the choir with you back then. And there was another girl too, wasn't there?" Jeff went on, and then added, concerned Shane might not recall her, "The freckled one. No one's been able to reach her all these years. She never comes to class reunions or weddings. It's like she vanished. Do you think she cut ties because she felt insecure and ashamed? People used to tease her about her freckles. Honestly, freckles can be cute; it's just that she had a lot of them..."
Shane didn't reply. His hand stilled briefly as he ate.
That freckled girl was Melinda, the one who had left without a word and disappeared from their lives for ten long years.
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