"You still have five seconds."
As soon as Thomas Shannon finished speaking, Sophie Sullivan immediately asked, "Can my face be healed?"
The pressure of his petting unconsciously increased.
Harry let out a pitiful MEOW in protest. Thomas Shannon came to his senses, looked down, and scratched Harry's chin to soothe him.
Sophie's cheeks tensed. She didn't dare to speak if he remained silent.
What did he mean? Could it be healed or not? Couldn't he just say something? It would be good to give her some idea of what to expect.
Time passed, every minute and every second.
Sophie couldn't sit still any longer. She got up, went over to Thomas Shannon, took Harry from his arms, set the cat aside, and sat on his lap.
She forcefully squeezed into his embrace, her alluring eyes, blazing with sparks of anger, glaring at him. "Thomas Shannon, why aren't you saying anything?"
"I'm not a doctor, so I can't give you an answer."
Sophie was speechless.
