So this was why, when I first woke up in the hospital, she feigned aloofness and pretended we weren’t close, even though no one else was around.
Ten minutes earlier, when she told me she was just my “neighbor,” her expression was detached, as if showing polite concern for a stranger. No guilt.
But then again, maybe she did feel guilty about what happened on the mountaintop. Otherwise, she wouldn't have lost control of the drone and caused it to fall on my head. At first, I thought her haste to leave was because she didn’t know how to face me.
What a joke. She didn’t care about me at all.
“Sorry, miss” I said, faking confusion. “My mind’s still a bit foggy from the fall—I didn’t recognize you right away.”
She offered a vague response, keeping up her own charade. But when she turned to look at me, noticing my unusually distant demeanor, confusion flickered across her face. The man who had always clung to her affectionately, even in private, was suddenly acting formal and reserved. She scanned the room, ensuring no one else was around, then leaned into my embrace, attempting to soothe me.