Chapter 60 - Guardian's Worry, An Accuser's Fury
My phone buzzed with an incoming call as I continued dabbing at the small cut on my arm. Seeing Damien's name, I took a deep breath to steady myself before answering.
"Hi again," I said, trying to sound casual despite the chaos of the last hour.
"You didn't answer my question, Hazel." His voice was calm but firm. "Are you injured?"
I glanced down at my arm, where a thin red line showed where the tailoring shears had grazed my skin. It was barely a scratch, but I couldn't lie to him.
"It's just a small cut on my forearm," I admitted. "Honestly, it's nothing serious—"
"Send me a picture." The command in his voice surprised me.
"What? Damien, it's really just a tiny scratch—"
"Please, Hazel." His tone softened, and something in it made my resolve crumble. "I need to see it."
Sighing, I switched to video call and angled my phone to show my arm. The cut was about two inches long but shallow—it had already stopped bleeding.
