That winter was bitterly cold, yet fortunately, both of us found our way out of it.
The café door swung open, and a set of familiar footsteps stopped right in front of my table.
"Marisa."
Damian's voice came low and tightly controlled, as though he feared startling me, yet his hand made the tabletop tremble faintly beneath it.
I lifted my head slightly, the corners of my mouth curving into a polite smile out of pure habit.
This was the one reaction Damian had never imagined.
He had pictured me hating him, resenting him, breaking down in bitter tears of grievance, but he had never expected such calm, a calm that bordered on complete indifference.
His throat tightened as he swallowed hard. He seemed to want to speak, yet the words died before they reached his lips.
All the apologies
