He'd been infatuated with her for three years. How could he let go? But when dreams became reality, it was hard not to feel dazed.
Ryan lay on the bed and lit a cigarette. The nightstand was still a plastic stool, and an empty instant noodle cup served as an ashtray.
Tina sat primly, glancing around before murmuring, "Ryan, you're really something. Living like this despite everything."
"I'm not spoiled. I'm from the countryside. But if I were this rich and still living so roughly, I can't imagine it."
"Honestly, if it were me, I couldn't do it..."
"Not just this environment—even working as many dirty, exhausting jobs as you? No way."
Tina said this wistfully, her heart swelling with sweetness. This man had given her the purest, most innocent love.
So what if it was Yana? So what if it was Lyla? They were just gold-diggers—no emotional foundation. How could they compare to her?
The thought comforted her. As Ryan stubbed out his cigarette, she threw herself into his arms.
