Still puzzled, Fernanda didn’t press the matter. There was no time for questions now. She moved quickly, guiding Evie to sit down on one of the nearby chairs.

“Where does it hurt?” Fernanda asked softly, her voice laced with concern.

Evie pointed to the spot on her lower back, wincing slightly.

Fernanda gently lifted Evie’s shirt, revealing a long, red streak across her skin. It was already beginning to swell, the bruise forming quickly. Clement had already retrieved the first aid kit. Inside were disinfectant and ointment meant for minor injuries. He handed them over to Fernanda.

Evie, exhausted and in pain, collapsed onto the table, barely able to move.

Fernanda carefully applied the ointment, her touch light, as she tended to Evie’s wound with care.

“It’s not broken, just a bruise. It’ll heal in a few days,” Fernanda said, trying to ease Evie’s worry. “Just make sure to use the ointment every day to help it heal faster.”

Evie let out a quiet sigh, her voice thick with congestion. She nodded in agreement.

Once the ointment dried, the pain seemed to dull, and Evie started to relax.

It had been so long since she had taken such a hard fall. The force of it had left her momentarily disoriented.

Fernanda, having tucked the first aid kit away, glanced between Clement and Evie. “What happened between you two?”

Evie, still a little shaken, laid out the situation.

She felt a slight sting of frustration, though she quickly pushed the feeling aside. It wasn’t intentional, after all, and wasn’t worth making a fuss over.

Fernanda sighed softly.

She could see why Clement had acted the way he did. He often spoke without thinking, blurting out whatever popped into his head. She’d warned him more times than she could count—his careless words could easily come back to bite him.

Fernanda turned to Evie and said, “Clement’s very particular about cleanliness. And sometimes he doesn’t filter his words. What happened earlier was his fault.”

Clement shot Fernanda an irritated glance. “I do think before I speak, Fernanda.”

“Oh, really? Then how do you explain calling the cup dirty because someone touched it? She’s not unhygienic, Clement.”

“But it is dirty…” Clement muttered, feeling unfairly accused. “If someone else touches my things, doesn’t that make them dirty?”

Evie let out a soft sigh, looking at Fernanda. “I was just being too sensitive. He didn’t mean any harm. I overreacted.”

She hadn’t imagined things escalating like this. What had started as a minor sting to her pride had become both mental and physical. Looking back, she would’ve preferred the mental hit alone—anything to avoid the throbbing pain that came with it.

Neal broke the silence, his voice light but cutting through the tension. “Why don’t you two just apologize to each other? It’s really no big deal. Clement, grab a drink for her and make things right.”

Evie, trying to ease the situation, apologized first.

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