"Is it hurt?" David asked in a low voice, almost a whisper. His hand gently brushed over the red wound on my neck, as if carefully examining each mark.
The dim light cast soft shadows on the walls, creating an intimate and thoughtful atmosphere. I lay there, my face slightly lowered, while David, lying beside me, observed the faint wound with a worried expression.
I took a slow breath before giving a slight nod. "A little."
For a moment, our eyes locked, and in that silence, there was something deeper than words. I could see the concern in his eyes—so genuine, so real. Slowly, David lowered his head, pressing his lips gently against my forehead, as if trying to soothe any pain I might be feeling.
I closed my eyes, letting that warmth seep into my chest, calming something that had long
