“That day, Hannah said she wanted to go sketching in the mountains, but halfway there, she changed her mind.”
“I meant to tell you…”
I gave him a wry smile. He had plenty of opportunities to respond to me that day, even if it was just a single sentence.
When the accident first happened, his phone was still on, but no one answered.
Later, it was just off.
Now, his pale excuses seemed like a cruel joke.
As soon as our eyes met, he quickly looked away, pressing his lips together as he changed the subject.
“Hannah called today, saying she had a cooking mishap, so I went over to help. She knew I loved homemade noodles, so she insisted on making them for me as a thank you.”
“But she’s not exactly a great cook, so it ended up being me…”
As he spoke, a smile of affection and satisfaction crept onto his face.
I stopped in my tracks, turned back, and quietly stared at him.
His high nose bridge, long lashes, and deep, dark eyes always seemed to be filled with a kind of tender affection, even when looking at a dog.
I had been lost in those eyes for five years.
But now, I felt weary.
“She can’t cook, and it’s okay you’re much better,” I said.