Chapter Twenty-Two“Ouch!” Will winced as Hema pressed the cold wet flannel to his upper cheekbone and temple.
“Hurt does it?” She moved backwards to survey the reddish, purple bruise, “this is what happens when you insist on acting the hero.”
“What did you expect me to do?” He grumbled, “when your family continually hate on us.”
“Balvinder is harmless,” she responded through gritted teeth, “he made a comment about problems within mixed culture marriages that's all. If you hadn't drunk too much vodka then you probably wouldn't have noticed what he said.”
Will ducked away and rose to his feet, “and if your cousin hadn't stabbed me then maybe I wouldn't feel so on edge.”
“He's in prison Will: seven years. I'm sorry, how many times do I have to apologise.”
“It's not your fault,” he pushe
