I have buried everything about you, but God actually allowed me to meet you again. Is this a favor for me, or a torture for me? The childhood promise is looming in my mind. Why did I choose to hold the love that I could grab with my hand? Did I miss you? How much do I mean to you? When all the truth reveals its true colors, when all misunderstandings are cleared up, people who have repented, are they like curves that can only have one intersection, and can no longer overlap their lives?