He made me happy.
We sat on the bridge, each with a spoon, eating cake and talking about our respective dreams for the future. We were very happy.
For him, who only had fifty dollars a week for living expenses, that cake was priceless.
He saved money for me, while dealing with the enormous academic pressure in high school. He also took the time to distribute flyers outside in winter, just to help me buy a pair of shoes.
Seeing him shivering from the cold, I cried.
I promised to be his girlfriend.
He used to be so gentle and considerate.
But now everything he did was just to prove himself, to make me surrender to him.
But I would never beg him.
How many days did I have left to live?
I wondered if he would regret torturing me during this time when he saw my body.
Thinking about these things, I accidentally burned my hand with the coffee.
My hand turned red from the burn.
I blew on my hand.
Leslie's voice came again, "Hurry up, are you okay? Is it so difficult for you to entertain guests?"
I turned around.
Looking at Leslie standing outside the kitchen, with a serious expression on his face.
It was as if I was not his wife at all, but a servant he could casually order around.