The hot soup on the stove began to steam.

Returning from my thoughts, I turned off the heat and carried the soup out, slightly burning my hand in the process. I didn’t mind.

Crispin was starting to regain his senses, sitting up with his head in his hands. He still looked a bit disoriented.

I set the soup in front of him.

He stared at me silently, his eyes filled with curiosity.

“Why do you always...”

I knew what he was going to ask, having heard it many times before.

The question was always the same: why I was willing to stay by his side, why I endured his humiliation....