Ivonne's POV
His words that night was the assurance I didn't know I needed as all my worries disappeared like a fog. I was so overwhelmed that I didn't even utter a word throughout the time I washed away the blood and picked out the glass pieces from the skin of his palm.
My head remained bent as I did what I had to do while I could feel his gaze burning into the side of my face. There was a slight tension in the air as the skin of our hands brushed every now and then.
The tingly sensation spreading all through my veins even after I was done. He murmured a thanks in a voice that came off as amused and at the same time intrigued.
Nonetheless I didn't allow myself give into the urge to stare at his face to see if his expression matched his stone. Rather I simply packed up the bowl and water and returned to the kitchen.
I expected him to follow me and was a bit disappointed when he didn't and instead remained in his sit when I came back to the living room.
