Her gaze was fixated on Tristan Sterling's arm.
"You..."
She finally moved, her lips trembling.
Tears finally slipped uncontrollably, silently dripping down her cheeks.
Her heart felt as if it had been torn open, crushed, and ground to pieces.
Tristan slowly lowered his head and glanced at the wound on his arm.
The blood had already soaked through the shirt, sticking tackily to his skin.
He frowned, not from pain, but from inconvenience.
"It's a minor injury, it's fine."
The incident had happened so suddenly. As he rushed down the stairs in a hurry, he didn't even have time to properly put on his coat, only draping it over his arm as he dashed down.
If he had put on the coat at that time, the thicker material might have blocked some of the force, preventing the knife from cutting so deeply.
But now, it's too late to say any of that.
He raised a hand to wipe his face, his fingertips smudged with someone else's blood.
"Does it hurt your heart?"
