Chapter 5

I slowly walked forward, hooked my finger under his chin, and examined his face. I smiled.

"You're good-looking, but your heart is truly rotten."

I raised my hand and slapped him without hesitation.

*Slap!* The entire room fell silent.

Caleb's left cheek was only slightly red. He stared at me expressionlessly.

I shook my hand, regretting that I hadn't been able to bruise his face.

It seemed my body hadn't fully recovered; my head felt a little dizzy, and I couldn't put much force into it.

Dean suddenly walked over to me, grabbed my hand, and examined it.

It was just a little red, not swollen. I hadn't been able to hit him that hard.

"Are you out of your mind? You just woke up and you're already throwing punches? Is your body okay? What if you pass out again?"

"What kind of person is so important that you have to do it yourself? Am I just decoration?"

Dean said a string of scolding words without taking a breath, all while gently massaging my reddened palm with his thumb.

My eyes curved into crescents, a smile I couldn't hide spread across my face. "Aren't you going to ask me why I hit him? You just told me to thank him!"

Dean didn't even lift his head, his movements gentle as he massaged my palm. He snorted softly.

"You hit him, you hit him. Why does there have to be a reason!"

"How is your hand still so red? Maybe we should go to the hospital to get it bandaged!" Dean looked up at me, his expression serious.

I couldn't help but laugh.

"Are you kidding me? By the time we get to the hospital, my hand will be fine. You're worrying over nothing."

"Who am I doing this for? And you have the nerve to say I'm worrying over nothing?" Dean raised an eyebrow, his expression stern.

I couldn't help but beg for mercy. "Okay, okay, I was wrong. It's all for me. Don't be mad, don't be mad."

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