The guilt after breaking up, the looking back after falling out of love.
In the seventh year of marriage, we quarreled over a trivial matter.
You slammed the door angrily and left. I thought we were going to get a divorce, so I hid in the bathroom alone and cried.
Half an hour later, you came back and brought my favorite fruit.
Tell me, Weiwei, I love you.
[I can't go on anymore, I accidentally wrote about a scumbag again. =. =Sorry.