Chapter 92

To my surprise, it wasn't long before the nurses pushed Carl out of the operating room. The doctor tending to him followed closely behind. I rushed over and asked about his condition. The doctor wiped the sweat from his forehead and said, "He has a mild concussion, but it's nothing serious." "What about the wounds on his stomach?" I asked. "The wounds aren't deep. So, no internal organs or intestines were damaged. We've already stitched them up. Still, he'll need to stay in bed for a week and avoid strenuous activity for a month," the doctor elaborated. Upon hearing that, the weight on my chest finally lifted. I couldn't help but marvel at how insanely tough Carl's head was. "Are you the one paying the bill?" the doctor asked. "We're from Rust Creek Coffee House," I replied, just as Timothy had instructed. "Alright then. Send him straight to a ward." The doctor instructed the nurses to arrange a suite for Carl and had him moved there. Once he was wheeled into the room, the nur