Chap-155*The Dead Romance*

Cynthia Dion: After that incident, Atticus returned with a tray carrying a steaming bowl of soup and an bowl of fruits. He set the bowl of soup before me on the bed and the tray on the table in front of him. "Finish all of this and then take the medication," he mumbled, his head bowed, and he silently sliced the fruits. I took a sip of the soup, and it provided a comforting warmth. Sitting across from him in his room, his tending to me was an unprecedented occurrence. The only distinction was that I now felt too wounded to express gratitude towards him. After all, he is partly to blame for my current misery. "What's the matter?" I couldn't fathom how he sensed my gaze, considering his head was mostly obscured by his hair, which hung over his forehead and eyes. "My wolf!" I realized I needed to discuss this with him. "I only recently discovered my wolf," I admitted honestly. But when he responded with a small scoff and just nodded toward the tray, I found it disheartening. "I can't figu