Travis Miller's expression wasn't exactly pleasant.
Injured and sleepless all night, his dark eyes weren't deliberately cold, yet they held a hint of dry iciness.
"Abigail?"
Outside the door, there was a rush of footsteps, and the familiar voice of Rocky Hemsworth called out Abigail Hemsworth's name, puzzled, "Why aren't you going in?"
Travis suddenly lifted his gaze, and Abigail was standing at the door, turning her head to look behind.
Her eyes narrowed slightly.
When Abigail turned her head back, she had a faint smile on her face.
Travis didn't know how many times it had been, but he particularly disliked her ubiquitous smile.
"There's no use in being anxious. It's not life-threatening; it just requires some suffering."
Stepping forward to support Grandpa, Abigail comforted him.
A few people approached the ward, and Penelope Conner stepped aside slightly, glancing at Abigail, her expression somewhat unnatural.
