That day, when she hung up the phone for the last time, she was utterly disillusioned.
How much must one detest a person to repeatedly hang up her long-distance calls so coldly?
How impatient must one become to repeatedly refuse calls for help from hell?
If he doesn't even value your life, how can you expect him to truly love you?
What kind of foolish woman would believe such an excuse?
Love, at that moment, had long since completely died.
Just like a dead heart, it couldn't be warmed at all.
"Xixi... I didn't know it would be like this... At that time, I really didn't think it would be so dangerous... It's my fault... I deserve to die... But I can't make amends..."
Make amends?
Can this be made amends?
If I had truly died back then, how would you make amends? By exchanging your life for mine?
