Egon's bandage had become saturated with a pale yellow liquid that Adela suspected had originated from an infection. The unpleasant odor emanating from the second layer of the bandage only confirmed her immediate diagnosis.
The circumstances would have been inconceivable for anyone other than Egon von Conradie.
There he stood, still radiating dignity and pride while enduring such a degree of pain. There was no doubt about it: his scars had reverted to open wounds.
Without issuing any commands to her legs or exercising caution, Adela found herself standing opposite Egon, her hand outstretched to remove the rest of the bandage. But her trembling fingertips couldn't quite reach over his shoulder, even as she tiptoed.
Egon took swift control of the situation, efficiently unwrapping the bandage and revealing to Adela what she had been dreading.
