When We Meet Again As Strangers novel Chapter 9

Victor came a week later.

At first, he stood at the door, not entering. After a while, he turned into the bathroom and smoked for a long time.

I heard the lighter flicking on and off, trying to understand the complex emotions he must have been feeling, but no matter how hard I thought, I couldn't make sense of it.

Half an hour later, he finally came out.

He waved his hand to disperse the smell of smoke, then slowly sat down beside me.

He was silent at first, trembling as he gently wiped the sweat from my forehead.

His movements were tender, patient, as if handling something fragile, a priceless treasure.

After a while, he cautiously asked, his voice rough and hoarse, "Does it still hurt?"

I ignored him and looked up at him. "What happened to the scar on your wrist?"

We both asked our own questions and kept silent for a while.

Finally, after a long pause, he spoke again.

"Jasmine, all these years... I’ve missed you so much."

Is that so? I wanted to say I missed him too.

I wanted to tell him that even though I knew it would hurt me, I would still go to the rooftop time and again to paint his portrait in secret.

Every stroke was my longing for him.

But I didn't say it.