Kyle clutched his jaw, the sharp sting from Ella's reflex punch still throbbing like a fresh bruise. He sat on the edge of the couch in his apartment, the dim light filtering through the curtains casting shadows across the room. Jones had left earlier, chuckling at the spectacle, leaving Kyle and Ella alone in the awkward aftermath.
Ella hovered nearby, her face a mix of guilt and defiance, her red hair tousled from the scare he'd given her at the door. She was still in her casual clothes—a loose tank top and shorts that hugged her curves—but her posture screamed discomfort, arms crossed tightly over her chest as if shielding herself from more than just the chill in the air.
"I'm... sorry," Ella finally muttered, her voice barely above a whisper. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, avoiding his gaze.
"For hitting you. That was... uncalled for." Ella added.
Kyle looked up, his hand dropping from his face. A smile tugged at his lips despite the pain.
