Cate stretched out on your lap, looking up at the ceiling, scrutinizing her hands. No gloves. You were one of the few people who let her do this, and it wasn't an empty word to her. In fact, hell she was just a little girl with a broken childhood feeling happy, feeling the safety of your presence.

And it was her fault, she lived with it like an itch that made itself known as soon as she looked at the gloves on her hands. But you, you almost made her believe it wasn't her fault, because she was a little girl, it wasn't her fault, wasn't it?

You were Godolkin's teacher, quite a bit older than her. Yet she curled up at your feet like a puppy, knowing you understood and accepted her.

Her plump lips pouted as her slender fingers danced on your wrist, ogling your hand. "Why are you doing this?" She tensed slightly. "I mean listen to me, let me walk around without gloves, trust me." Certainly wariness was the healthiest reaction, or perhaps she just wanted to hear something like how much you cared about her and how much you love her.

Yes, she would like to feel your love. She would want to be loved by you, you were a good person and she was mercilessly attached to you, like a kitten, if you feed it once, it will never leave you. It was the same with her, when you yourself offered to help her and here she is, tentatively waiting for any signals from you.