Breaking Point

He grabbed my wrist and pulled me back to the bed. Casting me a determined look, he inquired, “Do you still feel bad?”

His question made me freeze. “Feel bad?”

“About my injury.”

I lowered my head and chuckled. Shaking my head, I responded, “No, Tristan. Whether you live or die is none of my concern anymore.”

I knew those words would make him angry and lead to a fight.

Yet, I still voiced them out