When she was seventeen, she took one look at him on the basketball court and typed nine words on her QQ account: "Hello, I'm from the next class."
He replied: "I don't fall in love."
It later took her three years to change that sentence out of his mouth.
From high school to college, from secret love to passionate love, from seeing each other every day to once every two weeks. She thought that as long as she walked slower, he would not fall behind. But he stopped long ago - for the sake of his sick mother and for the road she didn't dare to pursue.
His hands were shaking when he hugged her on New Year's Eve. When they parted, he took off the silver chain he wore to match her necklace. She watched him get on the bus from across the street, but he didn't look back behind the window glass. That was their last appearance.
Years later, she opened the dark green notebook, and the last page read: "None of us did anything wrong."
The really sad thing is - he didn't stop loving her, and she didn't stop loving him. It's just that the two roads started from the same starting point and turned into two lines that no longer intersect.
She took the exam and went to the capital. He stayed in City A. On the day his mother died, she rushed back and stood behind the crowd and saw him putting the silver chain back on his collar.
They looked at each other from a distance across the entire mourning hall, then each lowered his head and walked towards his own sea of people.
[A story about "We still love each other, but the roads have parted"]
