"You risked your life to save someone else. That's a heroic act, so why are you wallowing in misery?"
It was a shame to see such a vibrant young man entirely defeated by circumstance.
"Saving someone is great, but looking at where I ended up, I clearly overestimated my own abilities."
Ewan Harding had convinced himself that if he had just trained harder, he could have pulled the victim to safety and dodged that truck.
Failing to get out of the way meant he had no business playing the hero.
He brought this on himself.
"I don't regret saving a life, but I regret not pushing myself past my limits before this happened."
He had relied on his status as a Harding, arrogantly assuming he was naturally better than everyone else.
In reality, there were plenty of people who worked twice as hard.
If one of them had stepped up, they wouldn't have gotten hurt, let alone crippled
both their legs in the process.
Claire stared at him.
Was he listening to himself?
Ewan was completely trapped in a toxic spiral of self-loathing.
"Well, it won't be too late to train once you're back on your feet," Claire said, seeing no reason for his endless guilt.
Shouldn't he be focusing on his treatment and saving his ambition for after he recovered?
"That assumes I'll ever stand again," Ewan said with a bitter scoff.
"Do you have any idea that the top orthopedic experts in Cabinda have already declared I'll be in this chair for the rest of my life?"
"That's conventional medicine, but our traditional techniques haven't written you off just yet," Claire replied with an easy smile. "If you refuse to try, then this really is the end of the line for you."
"Even if I fail, your condition won't get any worse. So why keep kicking your doctors out?"
"Or is throwing tantrums your way of keeping your family's undivided attention entirely on yourself?"
It was the most basic reverse psychology imaginable.
But it worked perfectly on Ewan.
"I am not!" The Harding family was expansive, and while Ewan was indeed the
youngest of his generation, he despised the accusation.
He would never use his tragedy just to milk sympathy from his relatives.
He just...
Ewan clamped his mouth shut, refusing to justify himself.
The girl standing in front of him was far too young. Even if she actually had medical credentials, he didn't buy for a second that she could cure is legs
one
More likely, she was just a mouthpiece his grandfather had. bired to butter him up befor wheeling in the real specialists.
"Talk is cheap. Are you seriously claiming you can fix me?"
Claire shook her head. "Actually, I can't guarantee anything."
Ewan let out a harsh laugh. "Then you've got a lot of nerve running your mouth!"
"Do you want me to examine you or not?" Claire asked, her patience wearing thin. Her nonchalant attitude perfectly stoked his competitive drive.
"Fine. Examine me. But if you can't fix this, don't ever show your face here again."
Claire couldn't stop herself from
rolling her
obvio
eyes. "If I can't treat you, I
wouldn't waste my time
coming back
What would be the point?
Scamming him for money?
"Who exactly are you?" Where on earth did his grandfather dig up this girl?
Was she really a doctor?
Ewan lost track of how many times he had doubted Claire in the last ten minutes.
Claire stepped fully into the room, checked his pulse, and expertly ran her hands over his damaged legs.
"Feel this?" Claire asked, pressing firmly against his inner thigh.
Ewan's eye twitched, heat immediately flooding his face.
"Watch where you put your hands!"
He would have leaped out of his chair if he wasn't completely paralyzed from the knees down.
"Relax, I'm not going for your crotch," Claire said, entirely unfazed.
"I'm testing your nerve responses. Clearly, your inner thighs still have sensation."
Ewan went dead silent. Sensation or not, having her stare at him so clinically was pushing him past his limits.
Couldn't she show a little modesty?
"The nerve damage is complicated. I need to see the X-rays from your initial treatment."