#Chapter 13: Salt in the Wound

The antiseptic smell of the hospital room wrinkled my nose as I regained consciousness. A dull throb pulsed at my temple, and when I reached up, I felt a bandage. Memories before I blacked out rushed back—the ring shopping, Raymond and Giana, the confrontation, and then pain. A soft shuffling sound drew my attention to the corner of the room. Giana stood there, fidgeting uncomfortably under Raymond's stern gaze. "Say it," he urged in a hushed voice. Giana approached my bed with the enthusiasm of someone walking to the gallows. "I'm sorry about what happened," she muttered, not meeting my eyes. The apology rang hollow, each word dripping with insincerity. I regarded her coldly. "Are you sorry it happened, or sorry you were caught?" Her eyes flashed with brief anger. "I'm trying to apologize here." "And I'm trying to recover from being punched in the face," I replied evenly. "Raymond's parents will be arriving soon. You should leave." Her mouth opened, likely to deliver som