Chapter 71: Wait for the Day You Succeed

Abigail leaned against the wall, lifting her injured leg and breathing lightly. It was dark, so Sean couldn't see her injury. He took out his phone, turned on the flashlight, and crouched down. "How's your leg?" he asked.

She almost lost her balance, instinctively reaching for his shoulder. Gently moving her left ankle, she replied, "It hurts a little, but I'm not sure if it's sprained."

Feeling her strength, Sean reached out and held her ankle. Abigail shivered, reflexively tightening her grip on his shoulder. "I'm fine Don't" she said, her voice trembling.

He smirked. "Are you getting weak just because I held your ankle?"

Her face flushed; she bit her lip, her eyes moist. "I'm scared of the pain," she whispered, looking away. In the flashlight's glow, her ears were translucent, the redness more visible than usual.

Only then did Sean realize she might be embarrassed. He gazed at her slightly raised leg—her foot pale and pretty in its silver high heels. Faint veins showed on the arch, and the ankle's bump protruded slightly. Her slender leg was alluring, seductive.

His hand lightly pressed against her ankle, applying gentle pressure.

Abigail grunted, feeling the warmth of his palm. She was about to lose her balance, so she leaned against the wall. Trying to distract herself, she said, "Sean, I'm learning design from Miss Smith. She asked me to write the annotations; I didn't draw the designs."

Sean's mind wasn't on that. He'd made a reasonable guess but decided not to press further, as it seemed disproven. His gaze darkened as he watched her pale leg. "Does it hurt?" he asked softly.

Though the pain wasn't severe, she felt uneasy with his touch. She was about to answer when his phone rang. Looking down, she saw it was Joan. Her unease instantly vanished.

Sean answered. He then gripped her hand, stood, and wrapped his arm around her waist, gazing at her before asking Joan, "What's the matter?"

Joan's sobbing, fearful voice trembled from the phone. "Sean"

Abigail pursed her lips, lowering her gaze and tentatively putting her foot on the ground.

"What's the matter?" Sean's voice was filled with concern.

"I'm scared There's something in the room I don't know what it is Sean, come over and take a look!" Joan screamed again.

He mumbled a reply, ending the call. Turning to Abigail, who leaned against the wall, he heard her say in a distant, polite tone, "Give me the drafts, and you can go. I just tried to put weight on my foot, and it doesn't seem injured. I probably dislocated a bone; it hurt for a moment, but it's okay now."

"The doctor gets to decide if it's okay. Let's go." He kept his arm around her waist, trying to guide her away.

She shoved him away, looking at him coldly. "I only came for the drafts," she said, her tone even colder. "I'm glad you came and gave them to me. I don't want to cause you any more trouble."

"So, you were only here for the drafts?" His voice turned cold. "You came to meet me tonight just for work?"

Abigail bit her lip, nodded, and said, "Yes. I know you're very busy. I'm so sorry for causing you trouble. Give me the drafts, and we won't have to do this again."

Sean tugged at his collar. "Sure," he said coldly, "but you have to perform well for Luna. I'll wait for the day you succeed in life." He'd even changed his shirt and tie for their meeting—all wasted effort!

He retrieved the drafts from his pocket and tossed them to her. She looked down at the documents, saying emotionlessly, "Thank you." When she looked up, he was gone, without a backward glance. Leaning against the rockery wall, she breathed lightly, then crouched on a rock, slowly massaging her ankle.

He never understood that her words stemmed from anger—anger at his continued involvement with Joan.

This cleaned-up version improves grammar, punctuation, and flow, making the passage easier to read and understand. It also removes the asterisks from the original, replacing them with appropriate wording in context.