"Old man, am I cursed?"
It wasn't the first time she had asked him that.
And just like always, his answer didn't change.
"You're just an idiot. Nothing more."
She sat quietly, her fingers clutching a small hairclip. Her face was blank, but the tears kept falling.
After all this time, she was finally able to feel again—but she still didn't know how to show it.
The old man didn't say anything. He wasn't good at comforting people.
So, he let her be.
....
"Why do you even take care of me? Is it my body you want, old man?"
She said it one evening while he was brushing out her long, tangled hair after her bath.
He paused and let out a tired sigh.
"I forgot what it means to want someone like that. And you… you're like a daughter to me."
She glanced at him—more of a glare than anything else.
But the old man just kept brushing her hair.