Rena refused to meet his gaze.

Her eyes focused on the ascending number, she retorted, “Waylen, it changes nothing!"

She had made her decision.

Waylen refrained from further words.

Eventually, they reached the apartment.

Waylen took a seat upon the sofa.

Silently, Rena retrieved the medical kit and placed it before him.

“Can you tend to your wound on your own?" she inquired, her demeanor cold and impassive.

Waylen lifted his head, locking his gaze onto her frigid countenance.

After a pause, he uttered in a hoarse voice, “I have lost a considerable amount of blood. Do you not feel a tinge of remorse for my plight?"

Rena let out a soft chuckle.

Without uttering a word, she proceeded to retrieve antiseptic Liquid, gauze and ointment from the medical kit.

A small wound marred his forehead.

Thankfully, it was not deep.

Rena carefully drenched a medical swab with liquid medicine, gently disinfecting Waylen's wound.

The pain was intense, causing Waylen's Adam's apple to bob, yet he stifled any cries.

To do so would be utterly demeaning.

Only in the throes of passion, their bodies entwined intimately, would he unleash uncontrollable groans, which was something that Rena found undeniably alluring.

With that in mind, Waylen cast a meaningful glance her way.

He tenderly clasped her hand, his voice husky as he uttered, "Rena, we made love on this very sofa."

Rena made no effort to spare his feelings.

Indifferent, she replied, "You can bring other women here in the future. You may engage in sexual encounters with them wherever you please."