Byran forced his voice to sound hoarse. "I'm not sure. Maybe I aggravated my wound when I called you."
Ida frowned at him. "Are you nuts? Why didn't you use your uninjured arm to make the call?"
Byran looked hurt. "I was worried about you, so I didn't really think about that.”
A muffled laugh came from the couch nearby, catching Ida’s attention. She looked over and noticed a middle-aged man sitting there.
McNeil couldn’t hold back his laughter after watching his stubborn son act so pitifully in front of a girl. He had missed a great career in acting.
Judging by his appearance, Ida guessed who he was and looked a little embarrassed. "You must be Mr. Howard. I'm sorry I didn't notice you earlier."
McNeil waved her off. "No worries; don't mind me. You two carry on."
Ida was a bit taken aback by his nonchalant attitude.
Unfazed by his father's presence, Byran pulled Ida's hand and continued his performance. "Ida, my wound hurts. Can you rub it a little? Your touch will surely ease the pain."
Ida looked at him as if he had lost his mind. "You've got a tear in your flesh. How can I rub that? It'll only worsen the wound."
Byran fell silent.
He just wanted her to show some concern, but he forgot about the nature of his wound.
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