"It's sour and bitter, so unpalatable!"
During my surgery hospital stay, Chandler neglected it.
So it quietly died.
Chandler pursed his lips, guilt flashing in his eyes.
"This weekend is my last tour stop, here in our city. Want to come? I'll get a VIP seat."
I organized study materials from last night.
Hearing this, I didn't look up at him.
"Perhaps it's better if I don't go."
Chandler's a renowned pianist. I once aimed to follow in his footsteps, hoping my efforts would earn his recognition someday.
But he never let me attend his performances, fearing it would affect his career.
Once, oblivious to this, I secretly bought overpriced scalper tickets, traveling thousands of miles to surprise him.
Unexpectedly, his face darkened immediately, and he pretended not to know me.
He even told others I was just an enthusiastic fan.
Now he offered me VIP seats on his tour.
In the past, I would have been overjoyed, jumping three feet high.
Chandler seemed stunned by my refusal and stood there in a daze.
After a while, he seemed to make a decision.
"Yasmine, are you sure you won't come? I wanted to introduce you to everyone."
I had dreamt countless times of him openly acknowledging me in the spotlight.