บท 59: CHAPTER 58

I wasn't sure if it was the sharp sting of my knuckles or the ache of my bruised cheek that hurt worse as I made my way down the dimly lit hall. Maybe it was neither. Maybe it was the weight in my chest, the crushing shame that refused to let up.

My boots thudded against the polished floor, the sound unnervingly loud in the silence. I should've been heading to the infirmary or anywhere I could patch myself up properly, but my feet seemed to have a mind of their own, pulling me closer to the one person I didn't want to face right now.

My father.

As I rounded the corner, there he was, leaning on his cane with the same effortless authority he always exuded. His posture was stiff, shoulders squared like the weight of the world—and our pack—was nothing to him. The dim light caught the sharp angles of his face, the ever-present disdain etched into his features.

I froze.