"Alright, I know." He didn’t find it hard at all, but since Mom said so, he could only accept it.
An Ruo also understood his thoughts, but he couldn’t comprehend hers.
Before he turned two, he was living in his own void world, without happiness. Therefore, she didn’t want him to start learning things too early; she just wanted to make up for the happiness he had missed.
An Ruo tucked the little guy in, kissed his forehead, and whispered gently, "Baby, good night."
"Mom, good night," Kangkang smiled cutely and then looked towards the photo on the bedside table, saying to the man in it, "Dad, good night."
An Ruo’s eyes flickered slightly. She glanced at Tang Yuchen’s photograph, her heart uncontrollably twinged with pain.
It had been two years already. It took her one year to emerge from the pain and to become strong for the child.
And it took another year to make herself appear happy, but in reality, she could never forget the pain of losing him, never truly happy.
Turning off the bedside lamp, she stepped out of Kangkang’s bedroom, gently closed the door behind her, and walked over to the window in the living room. Pulling back the curtains, she opened the window slightly, and the cool night breeze immediately gusted in.
The spring nights were still a bit cold; she hugged her arms, dispelling some of the chill.
At this moment, J city had quietened down. Gazing at the distant twinkling neon lights, she missed Tang Yuchen immensely.
Or rather, every night when she was left alone, she would miss him terribly. The longing penetrated deep into her marrow, torturing her heart every night, bringing pain and sorrow.
She always imagined he was still alive, hoping for a miracle to happen one day; that he would stand before her again.
But two years had passed; why hadn’t he appeared yet?
An Ruo didn’t want to think about the many possibilities; she just wanted to hold onto this faint hope until her death. Maybe after she died, the heavens would look favorably upon her, allowing her to meet him in another world.
The man in the building across, passing by his living room, habitually looked towards the opposite window and saw her standing there.
He stopped in his tracks, his gaze fixed on her, unable to move away.
Worrying that she might see him, he stepped forward to draw his curtains, leaving just a small gap, then picked up a pair of binoculars and quietly watched her.
As long as An Ruo stood by the window, that’s how long he watched her.
The temperature on spring nights was quite low, and standing in the wind for too long could cause a cold. His heart anxiously urged her to go to bed soon, yet selfishly hoped she would linger a little longer and not leave.
An Ruo was completely unaware that someone was watching her; she was just intently observing the distant lights.
Not knowing how much time had passed, she felt her hands and feet become cold, then she closed the window, drew the curtains, and went to rest.