Slap
As Olivia pushed the sleeve higher, Lucian's arm was revealed-pale, but marred by scars. The marks weren't fresh, but they weren't old either. Faintly pink, they seemed only a week or two healed, their jagged edges a haunting reminder of his inner turmoil.
Olivia's breath hitched, her chest tightening painfully as her gaze fell on the evidence of his suffering. Her fingers trembled as they hovered over the scars, her lips parting as though to say something, but no words came.
"I'm sorry," she whispered finally, her voice breaking. Tears filled her eyes, threatening to spill over. "I... I'm so sorry, Lucian. Really... So, so sorry." She repeated the words over and over, as if they could somehow erase the pain he had endured, the wounds he had inflicted upon himself.