~Nyla’s POV~
“What?”
He comes towards me without hesitating.
“Where?” he asks, his voice shifting—softer now, calmer… like he’s trying not to scare me.
“Everywhere.” I bite my lower lip, the word slipping out as tears begin to well in my eyes.
“It’s okay, dear… sorry—it’s okay, Nyla.” He shakes his head, correcting himself. “Do you have any ointment?”
My eyes widen. He called me dear…?
My stomach twists.
I like it.
No… don’t. Don't change it please.
“Emm… it’s in the drawer. Somewhere.”
“Okay, let me get it.” He moves to the drawer, opening it—first one, then the second—until he finally finds it.
“I’ll apply it now,” he says, just like that. No hesitation. No question.
I look up at him. “What?”
“You’re in pain,” he says simply.
“I know, but… I don’t think it’s necessary—”
“
