ADA
For the past few days, Lucas had been calling or visiting me regularly. He used being my doctor as an excuse, but I knew what he really wanted. The more I got to know him, the more I realised that he seemed like a genuinely good person. I didn’t want to hurt him because I knew my broken heart was incapable of loving again. Grandma seemed to like him, too. She had prepared a variety of dishes when he came over for dinner on Sunday.
He always talked about himself. I suspected he wanted me to open up to him as well, but there was nothing to say. There wasn’t much to tell him about myself, and whatever little I could share would only risk exposing my identity.
He was born here in Newcastle. His mother died when he was twenty, and he never knew who his father was. His mum raised him alon
