Meanwhile, outside Andrew’s room, Annabel leaned against the hallway wall, nursing her wounded hand. The sting of the cut was a tangible reminder of the unexpected turn of events. She replayed the scene in her mind, from Mrs. Torres’ stern warning to Andrew’s impulsive reaction.
In the sprawling cotton field, Annabel caught sight of Andrew approaching, and a sudden surge of discomfort prompted her to seek refuge amidst the cotton plants, concealing herself from his view. Andrew, oblivious to her evasive maneuver, continued walking until he stood in the midst of the cotton, his eyes scanning the surroundings.
“Annabel?” Andrew called out, his brow furrowing in confusion. He trailed his hand through his hair, a gesture of mild frustration. “Where could she be?”
Hidden in the cotton, Annab
