Lyra shook her head: "It doesn't hurt."
Morris took her hand, replacing the one that was rubbing her wrist, gently massaging the area he had just gripped red. His usually calm countenance showed emotions he didn't usually display.
Lyra looked at Morris's face, which was focused, serious, and meticulous as he massaged her wrist.
It seemed like he had something to say, but Lyra spoke up before he could: "Uncle Morris, let's end this here."
After speaking those words, Lyra's nose began to tingle.
She had thought she could say them easily, but now that she had, it was so bitter. It was as if someone at the bottom of her heart was screaming at her to stop: Don't say it...
But she still said it.
The movement of Morris massaging her wrist stopped for a moment.
After about ten seconds, he looked up slowly, all emotions on his face disappearing, replaced by a calm and controlled expression. He asked peacefully, "Why?"
"There's no reason." Lyra shook her head.
