Suddenly, Kylia let out a soft laugh, pointing at my shoulder. "I think I just ruined one of your shirts."
I studied the calm expression on her face, knowing it was just a front.
She was only twenty-one—a girl who should be carefree, protected by her family.
But her maturity often made me forget her age, forget that she was still just a girl who needed to be cared for.
I tried to speak, my voice a bit rough.
"You've already healed my legs. Let's call it even."
"No way!" she replied playfully, though with a serious tone.
"Two legs for one shirt? That's hardly fair."
Her mischievous voice and innocent, wide eyes made me want to pull her close and never let go.
But the way she walked so cautiously in her slippers and the barely noticeable tremor in her hand when she turned on the lig
