Carefully cleaning her wound with the cotton ball, Stanley kept blowing cold air at it. He was as tender as an antique duster.

A surge of warmth spread inside her heart when she looked up to see his focused gaze.

“How is it? Does it hurt?” he asked.

“It doesn’t.” Xyla shook her head.

“Don’t use your hands to pick those up next time.”

“Okay.”

After that, he tossed the cotton ball away and meticulously wrapped her wound with a band-aid.

His actions were swift and gentle.

“Done. Don