He felt a slight stir in his heart, suddenly realizing.
What he thought were insignificant jokes might have been etched in her memory long ago.
"There was another time," Vivian continued, "at my uncle's family banquet. I was a bit scared of the crowd and quietly hid behind my uncle, not daring to speak. But you pointed at me and said, 'Why does this little girl look like a mouse?' You insisted on digging a hole for me to bury myself in."
Tristan: "..."
He was at a loss for words, frowning slightly.
Back then, seeing her timid demeanor amused him, and he made a casual joke. It was purely in jest.
Even he hadn't taken it to heart.
But hearing it from her.
It sounded like he deliberately bullied a child, and in an especially harsh way?
"I used to really hate you," Vivian's voice gradually lowered, "Every time I saw you, my heart would race, not because of affection, but... dislike, fear, and helplessness."
She paused, her eyelashes fluttering lightly.
