I laid in Michael's penthouse suite, the dim light casting soft shadows over the room. My face had faint bruises, remnants of the night's brutality, but my eyes held a resilient gleam, tempered by exhaustion. Michael watched me from the edge of the bed, his usual calm veneer replaced with a mixture of worry and guilt.
I turned my gaze to him, breaking the silence. "You don't have to hover, you know," i said, managing a faint smile that didn't quite reach my eyes.
Michael's jaw tightened. "I should have been there sooner." His voice was low, barely concealing the frustration simmering within him. "I should have known something like this would happen. Vanessa's capable of anything."
"You can't protect me from everything, Michael," i replied gently. I looked down, my hands fiddling with the edges of the blanket. "I thought I could handle this on my own..."
