On my wrist was a small red mark.
It was a round scar, with a raised, thickened ring around the edges.
“Look, you burned me with your cigarette.”
I was referring to that day in high school when he, in a bad mood, dragged me to a corner and pressed the cigarette butt against my skin.
It hurt so badly that I forgot everything else he did afterward.
He stared at the mark for a long moment before squatting in front of me.
As much as I hated to admit it, Ethan’s face was flawless.
It was perfect like it had been sculpted by one of history’s greatest artists.
If he gazed at someone with such soft, gentle eyes, I imagined anyone would drown in them.
Maybe that was why the Bible said the devil had the most enchanting face.
The light from his lighter flickered as he lit a cigarette in front of me.
I flinched instinctively, afraid the burning tip would land on my arm again.
But the next second, he calmly pressed the cigarette out against his own wrist, right at the same spot where he had left a scar on me.
He quietly watched me, his voice soft. “Does this make you feel better, Alice?”
I didn’t reply, lowering my gaze.
The cigarette ash flickered, and the fresh wound on his wrist stood out painfully.
Suddenly, he reached out and pulled me into his embrace.
“Alice, I wish I could take some of your pain.”
The fireflies slowly rose above the pond as I stared at the shimmering moonlight.
“Ethan, you know those pains were caused by you.”
His body stiffened for a moment, then he slowly began to caress my hair.
“Then let me atone, okay?”
I fell silent.
…
After Ethan left this morning, I threw the glass of milk at the television, just like before.
At times like this, the staff would usually warm up another glass of milk and hand it to me.
But today, I didn’t want any.
