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Next chapter: Chapter 5
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... vous faces.

A black frock coat with gold stitching over a neat suit that clings to the body, long black hair tied at the nape of the neck, those sharp eyes that felt colder than the cold wind blowing outside.

His appearance and momentum were unusual. In fact, in his hands, their compatriots who rushed in from the rear of the train were killed.

‘Who the hell is he?’

The terrorist who led the train raid frowned at the man in front of him. He couldn’t understand how such a w ...

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The night before we obtained our marriage certificate, I asked him, “When did you start to develop feelings for me?”

He answered, “I don’t remember.”

“But, why me?”

“Why not you?”

“I’m very petty, and I get jealous very easily.”

“So am I.”

“I’m afraid I’m not worthy of you.”

“So am I.”

“I haven’t really dated, so I don’t know what love is.”

“I don’t know either.”

He held my hand gently, “But I know this. When I think about spending the rest of my life with you, I feel that my future is filled with hope.”

At 16, we used the same class desk, with less than 10cm between our arms. My peripheral vision was full of him.

At 26, I woke up in the morning, and saw the sunlight softly shining on his face. I thought, this is how I want to grow old – gradually, together, with him.

I guess this must be love.