I've seen her dark secrets.
She is not who others see her - she is the one who made coffee in my shirt at three o'clock in the morning, who took off her high heels and stepped barefoot on the floor, who waited fourteen years before she dared to ask "Do you still remember?"
They say I don't understand life. But no one saw the soft light in the corner of her eyes when she lowered her guard.
I'm not a hero.
Just guard her where no one can see her.
