"You know you're supposed to receive more than that," Angel's voice rang out, firm and filled with disappointment as she watched Tryson slowly recover from the force of the slap.
She stood there, unwavering, her eyes never leaving him as he winced, the sting still lingering on his face.
For a moment, he gently ran his fingers over the reddened skin of his cheek, as if the physical pain was nothing compared to the weight of her words. Then, with a quiet resolve, he turned his gaze toward her, his eyes softening with an emotion that he couldn't quite express.
"I'm sorry, Angel," he muttered, his voice low, almost breaking.
"You're sorry?" Angel repeated, her disbelief slicing through the air like a sharp knife.
