Chapter 8: You Should Spend More Time With Her

It felt as though the whole room had turned silent. Time froze, and people stopped blinking. Someone had spoken, and it wasn’t Griffin. Dorothy’s body finally found motion, and she turned her head to stare at Stefan.

He had a different expression on his face—different from the usual depressed look. He seemed taken aback.

“What… what did you just say?” Dorothy asked. Stefan didn’t answer. Instead, he shook his head.

“Stefan, you just spoke! You just spoke! Say something again! Stefan, say something!” Dorothy held his shoulders, shaking him. She was filled with shock, excitement, and other emotions she couldn’t quite name.

The door burst open, and Griffin rushed in.

“Hey!” he called out, pushing Dorothy away from Stefan. “Mr. Stefan, are you alright?” Griffin stared at Stefan with concern, then turned angrily to Dorothy. “What is the matter with you?”

“Griffin! Stefan just talked!” Dorothy pointed at Stefan.

Griffin looked surprised and annoyed at the same time. He stared at Stefan, then back at Dorothy, and then at Stefan again. Stefan remained silent.

“What is the matter with you?” Griffin repeated.

“I swear he talked! I was going to help him change, and I heard someone say, ‘thank you.’ It wasn’t you because you were outside—it was him!” Dorothy insisted, pointing at Stefan.

Griffin stood there, his hands on his waist, looking exhausted, frustrated, and confused. He took out his phone and began making a call.

“Who are you calling? What’s going on?” Dorothy asked but was ignored. Griffin ended the call and shot her a sharp look.

“Mr. Stefan and I will leave now. If you need anything, the maids will help you,” Griffin replied, wheeling Stefan out. He stopped and turned around before leaving.

“Mr. Stefan orders you not to utter a word about this to anyone,” Griffin added before stepping out.

Dorothy wore an incredulous look. He still had the audacity to boss her around when he should have been saying “thank you” agailn.

The car stopped in the parking lot of a massive building, unmistakably a hospital. The building bore a medical “plus” sign and the prominent initials “BMC” for Berlymore Medical Center.

The driver helped Griffin out of the car. The wheelchair was unfolded, and Stefan was assisted into it. Griffin wheeled him inside the hospital. The employees seemed familiar with them, so there were no questions as they headed to an elevator, which stopped in front of an office.

The office was impeccably arranged. Files were neatly placed on the table, and the space was so clean it shone brighter than the rest of the facility. A swivel chair faced the window, its occupant’s broad shoulders, neck, and head silhouetted against the light.

As soon as the door cracked open, a smirk formed on the man’s thin pink lips. He turned his chair forward.

“Well, well... Who do we have here?” He was dressed in a lab coat over a black suit with a red tie. He looked young and strikingly handsome, like someone in his mid-twenties, though he was actually thirty-two.

His name was Harrison Berlymore, and he had inherited the hospital from his grandparents.

“Doctor Harrison, I know you weren’t expecting us today,” Griffin began, but Harrison cut him off.

“I’m so disappointed, you know.” He pouted. “After everything I’ve done for you, Stefan, I wasn’t even invited to your wedding. Heck, I didn’t even know you were getting married—I overheard it from gossip.” Harrison shook his head, feigning disappointment.

“Don’t be offended, Doctor Harrison. Mr. Stefan wished for no one to be invited,” Griffin replied calmly.

“So I’m a nobody now? I thought we were friends,” Harrison said, mockingly sad.

Stefan looked more irritated than usual, and Harrison’s inner self reveled in it.

“We came for something really important,” Griffin said, ignoring Harrison’s whining.

“I have a patient to see right now. You could have called me, you know. I’m a doctor, not a—”

“Mr. Stefan talked. He said two words,” Griffin reported, cutting him off. Harrison froze, his playful demeanor vanishing entirely as his face turned serious.

“Are you serious?” he asked.

“His wife claimed so, and Mr. Stefan hasn’t denied it,” Griffin replied.

Harrison stared at Stefan. “Is that true?”

Stefan remained quiet for a moment but then nodded once. Harrison picked up the telephone on his desk and made a call.

“I won’t be seeing any other patients for now. Hand them over to the other doctors,” he told his assistant.

After hanging up, he walked over to Stefan and squatted in front of him. “What were his words?” he asked.

“‘Thank you,’” Griffin replied.

“Wow,” Harrison mumbled. “For nine years, Stefan. I did everything I could for nine years, and then you just got married. Heck, it’s not even a week into your marriage, and you told her ‘thank you’? Should I be jealous or impressed?” He reverted to his playful tone.

“Mr. Stefan wishes you’d stop joking around,” Griffin mumbled, and Harrison couldn’t help but huff.

Turning serious again, Harrison said, “This is a good sign. Now we have hope you’ll be able to talk again. I don’t know what she did to compel you to speak, but I think you need to spend more time with her.”

“Maybe go on a honeymoon since you’re married. Be around her, and come back in a month for testing. If anything special happens again, report back immediately.”

After a brief silence, Griffin spoke.

“Mr. Stefan will be leaving now.”

“Hey, seriously, no thank you!” Harrison shouted after them, but Griffin had already closed the door.

“At least tell your proxy to thank me!” Harrison added, scoffing.

It was getting dark when Stefan returned home. The maids were setting the table with food, and Dorothy was on the couch watching TV. She smiled as soon as she saw him.

“You’re back,” she said happily.

Stefan stared at her for a moment before turning to Griffin.

“Mr. Stefan asks why you aren’t eating,” Griffin translated.

“I was waiting for you,” Dorothy replied. “I didn’t know when you’d return, but freshen up so we can eat together—I’m starving,” she added, smiling.

Stefan nodded at Griffin, who helped him upstairs. After a few minutes, they returned. Stefan looked refreshed. At the dining table, Dorothy couldn’t help but glance at Griffin. She wondered how this man managed to get any time to himself. All his life seemed to revolve around Stefan. It must be exhausting.

“Griffin, why don’t you join us? Stefan, let him join us to eat. He’s been by your side for nine years—what’s the harm in eating together?” Dorothy said.

“I’m fine the way I—” Griffin stopped when Stefan gestured him to sit, he sighed, and sat down. “Thank you, young mistress,” he said before helping himself to some food. He made sure to eat slower than the others.

From the counter, Emily scoffed. “The young mistress sure thinks highly of herself.”

“I think she’s cool,” Tiffany disagreed. “She got Griffin to eat with Mr. Stefan for the first time. He never does that—he only eats after Stefan goes to bed. Sometimes, he’s so tired he doesn’t eat at all.”

Emily scoffed again. “He’s too loyal. He must be getting paid a lot to dedicate his life to this. Mr. Stefan has been struggling for almost ten years—he’s never going to get better.”

The maids didn’t realize Stefan could hear them, but he remained quiet.

“Young mistress,” Griffin called. “Mr. Stefan wants to spend some days alone with you, starting tomorrow.”