After finishing his workout, Winston glanced down at the polished floor and realized it was coated in sweat. Footsteps echoed from the hallway, Winston's eyes widened. He sprinted toward a closet across the room, grabbed a mop, and quickly wiped up the puddles. He returned the mop to the closet and hurried back to bed, throwing himself beneath the covers.
The silver doorknob turned, the door swung open. A young, beautiful nurse entered while speaking to another nurse standing in the hallway.
"Hey, Nadia, are you okay?" the other nurse asked. "I heard a scream coming from this room."
"Yeah, I'm fine. I think the patient had some kind of incident."
Nadia walked over to the clipboard beside Winston's bed and flipped through the pages. "Who was assigned to look after him tonight?"
"I think it was Rose."
The other nurse peeked through the doorway and glanced at Winston, who remained perfectly still with his eyes closed.
"Oh... her."
She glanced left and right before stepping closer to Nadia. "Apparently, Rose is sleeping with the supervisor... and Doctor Lee."
Nadia's eyes widened. "No way. I've always suspected she was getting special treatment. Some of the nurses on her shift told me she spends a lot of time with the supervisor."
The other nurse lowered her voice. "If you walk down the hallway during her shift, you'll hear her moaning."
Winston's face burned with embarrassment beneath the blanket.
Please leave.
One of the nurses began mopping the floor while the other continued whispering. Winston slowly turned onto his side, facing away from them.
Why are they having this conversation here?
Before the gossip could continue, a doctor entered the room. The two nurses immediately straightened. "Good morning, Doctor."
They quickly gathered their things and slipped out. The doctor walked over to Winston's bedside and picked up the clipboard. Without saying anything, he gently held Winston's head in place and shone a penlight into his eyes.
Winston blinked, the doctor scribbled something on the clipboard before speaking.
"Good morning, Mr. Dalely. How are you feeling today?"
"I'm feeling good, Doctor. When can I be discharged?"
The doctor gave him an amused look. "Straight to the point, huh?"
Winston smiled awkwardly. "I'm feeling much better."
"I can see that." The doctor glanced at the chart. "What surprises me is that you should still be feeling some effects from the medication I gave you yesterday."
Winston frowned. "Maybe I'm just recovering quickly."
The doctor didn't answer—when Winston had first arrived, his injuries had been extensive—broken bones from his ribs down through his legs, along with severe trauma that had left him unconscious for two weeks. Even after waking, his recovery had been expected to take a considerable amount of time.
Yet now... He appeared almost completely normal.
"Well," the doctor finally said, "I'm glad you're feeling better, but that doesn't mean you're ready to leave." He turned a page on the clipboard. "You suffered multiple fractures. We need to perform another series of X-rays before we can even discuss discharge."
"But I feel fine," Winston insisted. "Maybe the painkillers you gave me yesterday helped."
The doctor stopped writing, he looked at Winston. Then at the chart, then back at Winston. Something wasn't adding up, he gently took Winston's hand and examined it, turning it over while adjusting his glasses. His expression slowly changed, the doctor released Winston's hand.
"Stay here." He quickly left the room, Winston watched him disappear through the doorway.
What was that about?
Outside, the doctor immediately pulled out his phone. "I need you to come to the X-ray department," he said, walking quickly down the hallway. "It's about Winston Dalely." A pause. "No, I'm serious." Another pause. "I don't know how to explain it. His condition has changed overnight."
He glanced back toward Winston's room. "Just get down here."
Meanwhile, Winston remained seated on the bed, completely unaware that his sudden recovery had left the medical staff questioning everything they thought they knew about his condition.
Once they entered the room, Winston sat on the edge of his bed, his feet resting on the floor. Each doctor read through the clipboard, glanced at Winston, and then passed it to the next person. One of the doctors sat beside him.
"Are you sure the painkillers helped you?"
Winston looked at the doctors. Their expressions were filled with confusion. One of them adjusted his glasses and squinted at Winston before looking back down at the clipboard. Suddenly, the nurse who had been peeking through the doorway startled the doctor.
"The X-ray scans are ready in Room 4A."
Two of the doctors immediately stood and hurried toward the door. They rushed down the hallway toward the X-ray room. Winston watched them leave before turning his attention to the remaining doctor. The doctor let out a heavy sigh and shook his head. After adjusting his glasses, he looked at Winston.
"I apologize for my colleagues. Please get dressed. I'll wait for you in the hallway."
After getting dressed, Winston walked out of the room alongside the doctor. They followed the long hallway until they reached the X-ray department. The doctor stopped abruptly. Several medical staff members were huddled around three large screens. The moment Winston entered, they all looked at him. Winston stepped into the scanning area and completed his first round of X-rays. When the scans appeared on the screens, the doctors stared in silence.
What they saw was impossible. The scans showed the bones of a remarkably healthy human being—strong, intact, and fully healed. One doctor slowly removed his glasses and slumped back into his chair.
"How is this possible?" he muttered. "Yesterday, he had broken limbs and fractured ribs."
He turned toward his colleague. "Are you sure you gave him painkillers?"
"I'm certain."
The doctors continued examining the scans, comparing them with Winston's previous medical records. The results remained unchanged. There were no fractures. No visible signs of the severe injuries Winston had suffered just days earlier. After conducting several additional X-rays, the doctors finally instructed the nurse to take Winston back to his room. Winston was growing increasingly annoyed with the entire process. He wanted to leave. He had already lost valuable time, and with only a few games remaining before the season ended, every day mattered.
I need to get back to training.
He remembered that the club's medical personnel were scheduled to return and begin his physical therapy. Rather than waiting for the nurse, Winston hurried back toward his room, leaving her behind when she stopped to speak with another nurse. As he rounded the corner, he spotted the club's medical team sitting on chairs outside his room. The moment they saw Winston walking toward them, their eyes widened. They immediately stood.
"Good morning," Winston said, rubbing the back of his head. One of the medical staff members examined Winston's hands before looking at the others. "Go get the coach."
A few minutes later, the head coach arrived. The medical staff were still examining Winston, their expressions filled with disbelief.
The head coach's eyes widened. "Winston... you—you can stand."
He stared at Winston as though he couldn't believe what he was seeing. "And you're walking. Jesus Christ..."
He approached Winston and placed both hands on his shoulders, giving him a gentle shake. His face was filled with excitement. "What did the doctors say?" he asked the medical staff. "Is he ready to be discharged?"
"We're still waiting for the doctor," one of them replied. "We also need to complete some physical therapy."
The head coach nodded, still staring at Winston in disbelief. As noon approached, Winston finally received the news he'd been waiting for. The medical team cleared him for discharge. The announcement immediately lifted his spirits. Winston threw himself into physical therapy, determined to regain whatever strength he had lost. Fortunately, his recovery progressed rapidly, and after two days of therapy, he was cleared to leave.
Winston packed his belongings in a hurry. On the drive back to the hotel, he reviewed his plans and thought about how he would carry them out. His only opportunity to attract attention from top clubs was to perform exceptionally well in the few remaining matches.
I don't have much time left. I need to make every game count.