I have long wanted to write an article to record the secret feelings between him and me. Saying "emotion" may be a bit of a misnomer. Because for four long years, I was always talking to myself, wishfully liking him and secretly falling in love with him. And he was more like a bystander, watching me plunge into the whirlpool of unrequited love with cold restraint. He never stopped or responded to me.
It wasn't until the last letter from him that I fully understood: He knew from the beginning that I liked him, and I liked him crazily and passionately. No matter how much I love him in my heart, he will not respond to me, nor can he respond to me. Because before me, he already had a beautiful and gentle wife and a smart and lively son. I was many years late in his life. The age gap and identity restrictions dictate that we can only exist in this world as a teacher-student relationship.
Now I will use the pen in my hand to tell you this true and sad story.