It had been fifteen days since the tragedy, but Tessa still eyed the doctor with suspicion as he carefully removed the stitches from her arm, never once meeting her gaze. It was like he couldn’t handle her eyes. Maybe because every time he spoke, she looked at him like she wanted to kill him.
“All done,” he said shortly, tucking the forceps back into his medical bag.
Nathan stood a little ways off, arms crossed, watching silently.
For the past two weeks, Tessa had done her best not to talk to him, look at him, or touch him.
She walked up to the large mirror in the room and stared at herself. Her fingers traced the small scar along her side. It stood out, ugly and unapologetic.
“I tried my best to make the scar less noticeable,” the doctor said.
Tessa turned, thinking he was talking t
