"So, you never thought about being with me, did you?"
Mo Jiashuo was silent for a long time, speaking softly.
Tang Die raised her head, looking at the face that haunted her dreams.
She loved him so much that even his cruel hurt didn't shake her love for him.
Yet, it was only love.
Her love never carried an ounce of possessiveness; she sought only a brief moment of joy, a fleeting warmth.
So Mo Jiashuo not loving her was the thing that made her happiest.
She didn't want him to love her; she didn't want the person she loved to endure the same pain and loneliness.
This was her love for him, seeking nothing in return.
Tang Die chuckled silently, with a hint of guilt, "I'm sorry."
If she'd known the outcome would be like this, she would have refrained from getting close to him.
Mo Jiashuo's love for her would only feel burdensome; they were not meant to be together.
