Just after they checked each other for injuries, both Zephany and Kendrick breathed out a shaky sigh.
The glass shards were scattered across the floor, the scent of scorched rubber still heavy in the air. The restaurant's pristine ambiance now felt like a quiet crime scene.
Kendrick gently reached for her arm. "You okay? Let me see your hands."
Zephany nodded, her voice soft. "I think I'm fine. Just a few cuts... I mean... I thought I had cuts."
Kendrick held her palms up, then blinked.
The scratches were healing—right before his eyes.
Now, there was nothing.
No blood. No scratches. Not even the faintest mark.
His lips parted in disbelief.
Zephany didn't notice Kendrick's reaction—she was focused on inspecting his forearm, where a shard had grazed him just moments ago.
"What the…" she muttered, trailing off.
The cuts had healed instantly. Now, they were gone.
They looked at each other.
In perfect silence.
Their eyes widened in unison. Minds spinning.
