70.2 Thoughts

A bout of confusion washed over her before a flicker of understanding flashed through her. Judging from the traces of anger adorning her face, I guess what I said didn't sit well for someone with a martyr syndrome like I did, "What do you mean it's not my fault? If I had returned your hug like usual, none of this would've happened."

"The fact that it even happened means that I'm not... as mentally sound as I hoped I would be," I explained hesitantly. "I overreacted. I shouldn't have sprinted out because I got rejected just once."

It was just one time, too. Such a reaction would only be present in children, and I was pretty sure that I was pushing fifty in terms of mental age. That was just sad.

"Still, I caused it," Lise sternly affirmed, her posture still prostrating, yet strangely resolute. "It's all my fault that-"