"Then why don’t you talk to me?" He asked again.
I finally raised my face to meet his gaze. "Lucas, didn’t you send me to the mental hospital to cure me of my obsession with you? I’m cured now, you should be happy."
He was at a loss for words. His eyes grew deeper as he looked at me. Eventually, he whispered apologetically, "I’m sorry, Helena, I didn’t want this either."
He didn’t want this? It was him who sent me there.
"It’s okay, it’s all in the past." I lied.
In reality, the suffering I endured over the past three years would never fade, nor be forgotten. I just didn’t want to bring it up anymore.
Half an hour later, Lucas brought me back to our old home. Mom and dad were waiting for me in the living room. Dad’s eyes were filled with pity as he looked at my thin, haggard self. "Helena, you’ve suffered. It’s good to have you back."
Mom sat elegantly on the sofa, as aloof as ever. "Now that you’re back, come and eat."
She glanced at me indifferently before heading to the dining room. Despite the discomfort in my leg, I tried to walk steadily and naturally as I followed Dad’s warm invitation.