When I woke up the next morning, I found that guy Steven still lounging in bed, looking completely at ease.
I was about to ask him why he wasn't making breakfast when I remembered his hand was injured.
I sighed inwardly. This had completely backfired. I wasn't making things difficult for Steven; I was making them difficult for myself!
Now, not only did I have to take care of myself, but I also had to cook for that jerk Steven!
But who could I blame? I was too soft-hearted, my moral compass spinning out of control.
When I was changing Steven's dressing, I couldn't believe my eyes.
Yesterday, it was just a few small, insignificant blisters that looked like they were about to heal. How did they get completely infected overnight?
I couldn't help but wonder, this was just too strange.
Suddenly, a bold idea popped into my head. Could Steven have done this to himself...?
I dismissed the thought as soon as it formed. I'd been burned before; it was painful and itchy, making it impossible to focus on anything. Steven wasn't an idiot. Why would he deliberately make his injury worse?
Just as I was thinking, Steven's regretful voice came from above me. "I shouldn't have gotten it wet when I showered yesterday."
Hearing that, I flared up. "Didn't I specifically warn you about that yesterday?"
That guy Steven actually lowered his head and said with an innocent look, "I forgot!"
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