Roisin
I sat down on the cushion in Olivine's room, settling into the soft fabric as I glanced at him. He naturally had the cutest bed head, making him look effortlessly handsome. It was hard to believe this was the same man who had been gravely injured just two days ago. “So, how are you feeling?” I asked, trying to gauge his condition.
Olivine lounged back against the headboard with a relaxed smile, his usual playful glint in his eyes. “I’m doing great. The soup you made worked wonders. I don’t feel any pain at all, and as you can see,” he gestured to his chest where the deep claw marks had mostly scabbed over, “the wound’s healing nicely.”
I stared at his chest, my eyebrows lifting in surprise. “Already? I can’t believe how fast you’re recovering. That was such a serious injury!”
H
