The air thickened, the hall growing small with every second that ticked by with silence engulfing us. The entire hall was so quiet that you could hear the sound of a pin drop. All eyes were shifting between the supposed senior surgeon and me, waiting for answers.

And he remained there, listening to my heart pounding with anxiety, his dark, piercing eyes scanning me as if I were a manuscript that he did not want to drop.

I swallowed hard and dry every now and then, wishing, hoping, and praying to the heavens that he would not say that I was the one who caused that wound on his forehead....