Derek's words were laced with affectionate mockery as he affectionately teased me. "You're a dummy, girl. Why are you making this face? It didn't happen to me. It's just a minor cut."
His nonchalant tone only seemed to intensify my concern, and I found myself gripping his hands tightly. There was a deep well of emotions bubbling within me, and I couldn't help but let them spill out.
I averted my gaze, my voice hushed as I confessed, "You are the only person I can trust after my mother." The vulnerability in my words hung in the air, a testament to the depth of my feelings.
"Elena," Derek began, and his voice carried a mix of emotion and tenderness. But I was hesitant to meet his eyes. His question hung in the air, a silent plea for me to confront my own feelings.
With a gentle command, he urged me to look at him—a gesture of assurance. He was unyielding in his resolve, determined to ensure that I knew the sincerity of his concern.
