The air thickened, the hall growing small with every second that ticked by, with silence engulfing us. The entire hall was so quiet that you could hear the sound of a pin drop. All eyes shifted between the supposed senior surgeon and the waiting patient, waiting for answers.
And he remained there, listening to my heart pounding with anxiety, his dark, piercing eyes scanning me as if I were a manuscript that he did not want to drop.
I swallowed hard and dry every now and then, wishing, hoping, and praying to the heavens that he would not say that I was the one who caused that wound on his forehead. Or worse, reveal what kind of an immoral person I am. I mean, you can never be too sure with people nowadays.
“I took it upon myself to go through all your profiles,” he said, his voice deep a
