This kind of love is specious.
She doesn't want it, and neither does he.
However, fate plays a trick, parting and reuniting, and reuniting and reuniting.
In the end, she didn't even know which of her words was the truth and which was a lie.
But he believed every word like this.
She was stubborn and didn't want to explain because she didn't even know what she was thinking.
Flowers are ready to be broken when they bloom, but don't wait until there are no flowers left to break branches.
Maybe I missed it, maybe I met you.
Because we don't know the final outcome.