Anne returned to the hotel and looked at dozens of missed calls on her phone. Although it wasn't Joseph Shaw's phone number, she knew it was him calling.
He just changed to a new number. Joseph Shaw had a habit: anything related to numbers, he always chose the number seven. This couldn't be called a habit anymore; it was almost compulsive.
The number that had just called had two sevens. It couldn't be such a coincidence that in the deep night, a number with two sevens called dozens of times, unlikely from a stranger.
Those who do not cry alone in the dark cannot talk about life. She had cried in countless lonely nights, so does she have the right to talk about life?
She still didn't have it; she didn't even have the courage to take a call. How could she talk about life?
She hoped all of this would pass quickly, then she would marry, have a cute child, and live this life calmly and steadily.
Love is a luxury for everyone; she hadn't even touched it.
