I didn't force Xu Qin to sign every day, nor did I make a fuss every day.

But after half a year of chasing me, Xu Qin finally gave up in despair and agreed to sign.

I know that looking at people coldly every day, seeing my enthusiasm being extinguished time and time again, even if it's just small things, will eventually become the straw that breaks the camel's back.

The more I look at him, the more I see myself back then.

When I was young and full of youth, I had patience and the vitality to do whatever it takes. I had the courage to persevere.

If it were me now, I'm afraid I couldn't even last half a year.

The day we signed the divorce agreement was at home.

My mood was calmer than expected, as if countless turbulent waves had passed and left behind a silent and cold sea.

Xu Qin, on the other hand, drank a lot of alcohol and had a strong smell of liquor.

I know he never liked drinking.

I walked into the room and saw the picture frames hanging on the wall.

There were two of them.

One was a painting of Xu Qin that I did, and the other was our high school graduation photo, which Xu Qin hung up.

Before, I thought Xu Qin hung up that photo because I was standing right in front of him in the next row during the graduation photo.

But when I look closely now, Xu Qin's eyes were clearly looking in the direction of the person standing there, and it was Zhao Shanshan.

Their story, if I weren't in the middle of it, would probably have been a beautiful story of mutual secret love.

I shifted my gaze and looked at the one I painted.

I reached out to take it down, but as soon as I touched it, the frame, unable to hang steadily, fell down on its own.

As it fell, my fingers moved, wanting to catch it, but in the end, I retracted my hand.

Then suddenly, a hand reached from behind me, trying to catch it.

But the frame barely brushed past his fingertips and finally fell to the ground, shattering into pieces.

The flying glass shards grazed his fingertips, staining them with a strong red color.

However, Xu Qin seemed unaware, he bent down to pick up the shattered frame and the torn painting.

"Why didn't you catch it?" His voice was a bit hoarse. "Isn't this me in your painting?"

So he knew.

I thought he didn't know.

For so many years hanging in the room, he always walked past without even glancing at it, never asking a question.

The glass fragments cut his fingers, slowly staining the ground with red.

I grabbed his hand and said, "Stop cleaning it up."

"Broken things are broken. Even if you piece them back together, they won't be the same as before."

Does it hurt?

Does it hurt to see him covered in scars now?

No.

I feel sorry for my past self.

If only I had known to reserve some love, I wouldn't feel exhausted at the mere thought of the word "love."

The moving glass shards came to a halt.

He slowly looked up, his narrow and beautiful eyes looking at me.

It was the first time I saw him with such an expression.

The broken pieces in his eyes were like shattered glass on the ground, unable to form a complete picture.

He reached out slowly towards me, trying to touch my face. "Don't get a divorce, okay?"

"Let's try again, starting from the beginning?"

I avoided his hand, turned around, and signed my name on the divorce agreement on the table, shaking my head.