"No need."
She pulled the blanket up high and turned her back to him.
Samuel Johnson's previously lifted spirits instantly deflated as he gazed at her indifferent back, feeling slightly disheartened. He stayed in the room with the empty bowl for a long time before turning to put the bowl back. Despite himself, he turned around once more to look at her.
His lips tightly pursed, he still couldn't help but ask, "Is there really no chance for us anymore?"
"Do you really not have any... any fondness for me anymore?"
When he asked this question, his throat felt choked, his voice subdued. Trembling, he asked, "I know I've done something foolish, but I truly... truly like you. Do you really... never want to forgive me?"
The closeness that was once within reach had, in an instant, stretched to a breadth he couldn't bridge. He didn't know whom to blame. He shouldn't have made that foolhardy mistake; he shouldn't have let her come back; maybe...