Clyver’s POV
“Does it still hurt?” I ask while scrutinizing my daughter’s arm. Cleya nods. Tears start forming in her lower lids and her lips curve downwards, trying to stop her tears from falling. There are still visible red marks on her arms and her shoulder still hurt. I sigh in an attempt to calm myself. My face darkens when I remember how she got her marks. I put down the ice bag on the table and lean forward to kiss her.
“Stay here. I’ll be right back.”
I stand in my seat, but before I can walk away her small hand clutch into the hem of my shirt. I look down at her and she shakes her head.
“Daddy, please don’t fight with mommy…” she sobs. “I do not want the t-two of y-you fighting.” Her hands fly to her face to cover them as tears started crawling down her cheeks. I shut my eyes
