Third Person POV

When Martin was eight years old, he spotted a tiny stray kitten by the side of the road.

It looked gray and dirty. It was wet from the rain, and its fur was matted in patches on its skinny, malnourished body.

It was so small that even its cries were weak. However, its eyes were wide as it stared at him, full of fear and pleading.

Martin immediately felt a tender part of his heart call out to the kitten.

He hurriedly tossed his mother's hand away and was about to pick it up to bring it home.

However, his parents were neat freaks and had always hated the idea of having pets, so they strongly disagreed.

He cried, screamed, threw tantrums, and rolled around in the rain, but all he got in return was the sight of his mother heartlessly tossing the kitten back onto the street and his father slapping him in the face.

He was then forcefully dragged home.

It was the first

Martin couldn't sleep for three nights straight.

On the fourth day, he did everything he could and finally found her. After that, he started hovering by her side constantly.

He treated her like royalty, and even though his actions were clumsy, they were sincere.

Willow was incredibly reluctant at first. However, she slowly began to smile at him. 

Sometimes, she would show an expression of worry when she looked at his arm, which he had injured while playing basketball.

Martin had read a couple of romance novels before. He thought that love meant wanting to protect someone through thick and thin, regardless of the reason.

So he confessed to Willow, and he promised to protect her for the rest of his life.

Six years passed just like that.

He protected her like she were a fragile ornament. He treated her carefully, as if she would break at the slightest touch.

Everyone called him a p

I didn't know why I followed him to the hospital. Perhaps I was actually worried about Molly, or perhaps I just wanted to see Martin worry about another woman.

The smell of sanitizer pierced my nostrils the moment I entered the corridor.

I didn't have to try too hard to find Molly's ward, and coincidentally, her door was left ajar. I could just about peek into the inside of her room.

She was lying on a hospital bed. Her face was pale, and her right leg was encased in a plaster cast.

She looked ill and exhausted, but she was still as beautiful as ever.

Martin stood in front of her. His voice was full of panic. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Why should I tell you? You're my best friend's boyfriend. You—"

"Molly!" Martin burst out. "What are you saying all that for? I thought we'd already come clean about our feelings for each other. You know—"

"Enough."

Molly closed her eyes. "I was acting rashly that day. Please don't take it seriously. I've already thought things through. Willow is my best friend, and she's very important to me. I could never hurt her, and I would never let you hurt her either. That's why everything has to go back to normal. 

"Please set your head straight and go back to Willow. We'll pretend nothing ever happened."

The sob she let out at the end of her sentence made it clear that she didn't mean what she was saying.

Martin began to cry as well. "Molly, no. Please don't say that."

Molly turned away and avoided his gaze. "I've made up my mind. Go home."

Martin suddenly shuddered abruptly.

Then, he let out a long sigh as if he had finally made up his mind about something. "Okay. You've just been in an accident, and you're clearly unwell. I won't bring it up anymore, but you have to let me take care of you. I can only relax after I know you're better."

As he spoke, he scooped up a spoonful of oatmeal and placed it by Molly's lips.

Molly ignored him, but he kept trying to feed her regardless.

After doing this a few times, Molly suddenly lost it and slapped the spoon and bowl away. "Martin, what the hell is your problem? I told you to leave me alone! Can you just go away?"

His hand stopped in midair. His voice was gentle, but it was determined. "You can ignore me, but I just want to let you know that I've fired the caretaker you hired. If you try to hire another one, I'll just wait here and chase them all away.

"You still have an IV drip in, and it's going to be inconvenient for you. Without a caretaker to feed you, you'll starve if you don't let me help."

As he spoke, he gently pressed the back of his hand to her forehead and tucked her in properly.

Then, he sat down and began to peel an apple.

I stood in the shadows outside the doorway, as still as a marble statue.

So Martin had that side to him. A gentle, but extremely stubborn side.

He was probably really in love with her.

Molly's eyes teared up as her tone softened. "Martin, you don't have to do this."

"I know."

Martin cut up the peeled apple into small cubes and put them on a plate. He looked at her deeply. "I know I don't have to, but I want to."

The moment their eyes met, the ward practically lit up like something out of a romance movie. The air was filled with warm concern.

I was finally sure of it.

The boy who had once sung love songs to me until his voice went hoarse was gone.

The boy who knew how insecure I was and once told me, "I'll love you forever, and you can keep asking me until you're convinced," was gone for good.

I couldn't bear to watch any longer.

I turned around and left silently.

Love was visceral, and it couldn't be controlled.

I knew that.

…

Two days later, I rushed to the airport on my own. I didn't waste any more tears on them.

The night breeze blew in through the half-open cab windows, and my memories began to play in my head like a movie.

When I was one year old, my mother passed away.

My stepfather, who had gotten most of my mother's inheritance, had to ask my aunt to help take care of me to protect his reputation among the other neighbors.

When I was three years old, my aunt suddenly left, and I never heard from her again.

Because of that, I starved most days, and I didn't have a single coat to wear in the winter.

When I was five years old, my stepfather hit me for the first time because I didn't bring back his alcohol in time. I cried until I lost my voice.

I even knelt in the snow overnight.

When I was eight years old, with the help of the community council and the Women's Federation, I was finally able to go to school.

However, the other kids constantly bullied me, and I lived like a miserable beggar amongst them.

When I was ten years old, a stray dog attacked me and bit me all over until I barely had an inch of unbroken skin left.

No one helped me, so I was forced to use up all my remaining energy to drag myself home.

When I met Molly, I was 15 years old. That was when my life finally started to have some color.

She told me that the first time she saw me, she felt like she had to take care of me for no reason.

When I was 16 years old, Martin saved me from a bunch of street rats. He dragged me away from them, and I remember thinking he looked like a white knight who had come to save his princess from evil.

I received my first-ever bouquet of roses and a heartfelt confession when I was 17 years old.

His expression was shy and hesitant, but his gaze was full of love and determination.

Now, at 23 years old, I was about to fly to cold, icy Stravia.

The weeping willow symbolized grief, mourning, and loss. That was the origin of my name, and that seemed to be my destiny.

However, Martin and Molly had taught me what happiness felt like.

All I wanted was for them to stay happy and fulfilled. Thus, I left of my own accord.

To be honest, I was more than happy to be able to do something for them.

Goodbye, Molly.

Goodbye, Martin.

I hope I never see you two again.

Third Person POV

When Martin was eight years old, he spotted a tiny stray kitten by the side of the road.

It looked gray and dirty. It was wet from the rain, and its fur was matted in patches on its skinny, malnourished body.

It was so small that even its cries were weak. However, its eyes were wide as it stared at him, full of fear and pleading.

Martin immediately felt a tender part of his heart call out to the kitten.

He hurriedly tossed his mother's hand away and was about to pick it up to bring it home.

However, his parents were neat freaks and had always hated the idea of having pets, so they strongly disagreed.

He cried, screamed, threw tantrums, and rolled around in the rain, but all he got in return was the sight of his mother heartlessly tossing the kitten back onto the street and his father slapping him in the face.

He was then forcefully dragged home.

It was the first time he felt completely helpless.

After all, he was never able to go against what his parents dema

Chapter 6