I don't know if there was such a person when you were young. He became all your memories during the long years of your singleness. A book is him, a cup of tea is him, and a gust of wind is him. One person is happy, one person is disappointed.
Don't doubt it, this is love.
He is an outstanding man. He will firmly believe her "You can do it." He will gently comfort her "Don't be afraid." He is as warm as the spring breeze in March, but it is just a flash in the pan.
From then on, he became the most secret pain in her heart, unique and irreplaceable.
It's not that she never thought about forgetting, but every time she thought she had forgotten, she found that he was always lurking in her blood, unavoidable.
One glance means a lifetime.
She walked through the long years alone as if nothing had happened, and she understood more and more that she would never meet him again.
Still waters run deep.
This is a plain story. What I want to express is not the vigorous love, but the love that will never be so warm again if I miss you.
Sometimes, missing out is not lack of love, but uncertainty.