So for these many years, without any other female to care for him, he survived solely on doses of medicinal soup to this point.
Claire Joyce, eyes red with anger, threw off the covers and jumped out of bed, gripping Alza's arm tightly.
"It was me! I was the one who went up the mountain to gather herbs every day! I was the one who fed you soup at night! I was the one who kept you company through the cold nights!"
She could no longer remain silent.
"Why is it that in your eyes, you can only see her? She has been gone for so long! If not for me, you would have long rotted in the mud."
Yet all of this seemed insignificant to him compared to a single touch from Selene Kane years ago.
She could not continue, covering her face as she sobbed and trembled.
But this time, no one came to hold her.
Alza would rather hide alone to lick his wounds than accept her attempts to calm him.
He stepped back to avoid her touch, his expression a mix of complexity and pain.
