"Even the finest delicacies get boring after a while," David said nonchalantly. "Besides, Mrs. Scott is getting old. How can she compare to you—young, beautiful and irresistible?"
They walked off, locked in an embrace, completely unaware of me standing around the corner.
I watched them disappear from view, my eyes burning with tears, every breath a sharp pain.
I still couldn’t understand. The man who once swore to love me forever—when did he suddenly change?
As I stood there, staring at their retreating figures, I felt the bitter irony in my chest. My heart hurt so much I lost the strength to stand. I leaned against the wall, collapsed to the floor, sobbing uncontrollably.
In the cramped corner, I let the darkness consume my nerves, my mind involuntarily drifting back to that memory.
A seventeen-year-old boy, holding my hand, pulled me out of class. He led me, walking under the moonlight, to the willow tree by the pond. The moonlight was clear and cold, casting a clean, silvery glow on his figure and even the air seemed to carry a sweet fragrance.
He pointed to the crooked, uneven letters carved into the willow tree and asked me, "Rose."