"What’s wrong with your leg?" Lucas stepped towards me, eyeing my right leg with concern.
"My leg is fine." I took a step back, a trace of wariness in my indifferent eyes. "Lucas, I don’t love you anymore, really... Please believe me..."
A flicker of pain crossed his eyes. "Well, is your illness not cured yet?"
"I’m cured." Afraid he might send me back in, I quickly explained.
He looked at me for a moment before sighing helplessly. "Let’s go home."
He thoughtfully opened the car door for me. I hesitated before limping into his car.
The car started slowly, heading towards home. I hung my head, nervously staring at my hands resting on my knees.
At a red light, Lucas suddenly turned to look at me. "Why aren’t you talking?"
No wonder he was puzzled. I used to be like a little sun around him, always cheerful and chatty. He would affectionately pat my head, teasing me for being unladylike. Seeing me so quiet today must have been a first for him.
I replied softly, "Nothing to say."
He reached out and pulled me closer, scrutinizing me up close. "Are you upset?"
"No." Loving him was my fault to begin with. He thought I was crazy, so it was normal for him to send me to a mental hospital.