"I'm just outside, let me know if you feel unwell," Henry Hughes seemed not to hear what Maeve Lane said and repeated himself.
The girl on the bed remained silent for a while, then lifted the covers and got out of bed, saying softly, "Let's talk."
Instead of making him guess blindly, it would be better to give him a reason he could accept.
"Your health..."
"No problem." Maeve Lane walked to the door and closed it, saying, "So you stop thinking about it."
Henry Hughes' outstretched hand turned into a fist, "Fine."
"The onset was probably a few months ago," Maeve started to speak with some vagueness, "It's no big deal, just a case of a broken heart, couldn't think straight for a bit."
She made it sound casual, but Henry knew the person she was talking about must have had a significant impact on her.
Surprisingly, he even felt a little jealous.
Maeve Lane was indifferent to everyone, yet someone could influence her emotions so strongly.
