Perhaps because Shalma Hughes's words had struck a nerve, the woman slowly raised her head. She glared at Shalma with extreme anger. "Who do you think you are? What right do you have to pry into my affairs? And I am not a homewrecker, so please watch your language."
"If you aren't a homewrecker, why were you beaten into the hospital by the man's actual wife?" Shalma asked sharply. "And instead of fighting back, you're just sitting here staring blankly out the window."
Sensing that there was more to Shalma's words, the woman finally tore her gaze away from the glass. "Who exactly are you?" she asked.
Shalma crouched down and took the woman's hand reassuringly. "I'm someone who can help you."
The woman stared at the slender, pale fingers resting on hers. Her eyes flickered as a faint glimmer of hope flashed through them.
Two and a half hours later, Shalma finally stepped out of the ward.
