Like I said, accidents happens.

As the doctor continued his work, Killian's gaze lingered on me. It was a look that held a myriad of unspoken words, a silent acknowledgment of the absurdity of our situation.

Suddenly, he broke the silence with a childish plea. "Mel, could you... you know, give me some emotional support? Hold my hand or something?"

I shot him a death stare, my sarcastic instincts kicking in. "Emotional support? You've got to be kidding me. You're not a child-"

He grinned mischievously. "Come on, Lane. It's not every day I gets stitched up like a patchwork quilt. A little comfort wouldn't hurt."

I sighed, feeling the weight of his puppy-dog eyes. "Fine, but just for the record, this is not because I want to. It's purely out of sympathy for your poor, battered ego."

He laughed, an almost musical sound that filled the room. "Sympathy or not, I'll take it. Now, come here and hold my hand, would you?"

I hesitated for a moment, contemplating the absurdity of the situation. Then, with a theatrical eye