Find me in your labyrinth (Stella and Jonathan) novel Chapter 2520

The young nurse looked at Sylvia and said, “The wounds are on his forehead and leg. They look pretty nasty, honestly. It’d be best to get them checked at the hospital, but—”

She caught Eugene’s warning glare and quickly changed her tone. “But if Mr. Winters really doesn’t want to go, we can keep an eye on things for now. I’ll stop the bleeding first.”

Eugene jumped in immediately, “See? Even the professional says it’s fine not to go for now.”

Sylvia saw how determined he was, and with no other choice, she sighed and stepped forward, grabbing some cotton pads to help clean the blood off his arm.

Eugene instinctively pulled away. “Don’t touch it, it’s filthy!”

Sylvia glanced up at him, her voice calm. “You bled this much for me, and you think I’d be bothered by your blood?”

Eugene froze, a strange light flickering in his eyes. He didn’t move again.

His arm was covered in cuts from broken glass. Sylvia’s expression stayed cool and composed as she worked, her hands skilled and steady—she cleaned and dressed his wounds even more deftly than the young nurse beside her.

Eugene tried to lighten the mood, grinning. “Don’t tell me you studied nursing on the side?”

“I did,” Sylvia replied, grabbing the tweezers and calmly pulling out a shard of glass embedded in his skin before quickly stopping the bleeding and applying ointment.

Eugene laughed. “No way! Why would you do that? Planning to be a nurse someday?”

Sylvia stayed silent. She really had studied it. She’d never liked practicing handwriting, never enjoyed sitting still listening to history lectures, but for some reason, she’d taken to studying first aid—following doctors around, patching up the kids who got hurt in training camp.

Once, her teacher had even gone to Gabriel to complain. Gabriel came to find her himself. He watched her work, brow furrowed, and asked, “Why do you like doing this?”

She’d answered honestly, “I don’t like it that much. I just think it could save my life.”

Gabriel gave her a mild, teasing look. “You sure do value your life, don’t you?”

Milanda, who’d been quietly watching, poured a glass of warm water and handed it to Eugene with a gentle smile. “Boss, you can’t blame Mr. Winters for not being a fighter. He went up against four or five guys alone—he did more than enough. Those guys took a much worse beating.”

Sylvia frowned. “You knew you were outnumbered and still fought them? That’s just reckless.”

Eugene flushed with embarrassment under Sylvia’s scolding, but his eyes sparkled. “I wasn’t thinking about that. All I could think was, if something happened to that girl, you’d be heartbroken. So, even if I had to do it all over again, even if I got hurt worse, I’d still—Ow!”

He yelped suddenly.

Sylvia had pressed the cotton a little harder to his wound, smiling. “Oh, so you do feel pain.”

Eugene looked at her, and a slow, warm smile spread across his face. Days of frustration and sadness vanished, swept away by that fight and this moment.

His forehead had been split open by a beer bottle, blood streaming down his face and onto his shirt. His leg had been hit by a chair—painful, but he could walk, so nothing was broken. The rest of his body was covered in scrapes and bruises from the scuffle. But he was still in one piece.