Love Burned, She Rose Unscathed

Keep your distance, don't come any closer. It's the best advice, both for yourself and for him.

Roseanne packed up her documents and pen, and suddenly, the man murmured to himself—

"But I still consider you a friend..."

Roseanne walked away.

Murray watched her retreating figure, calmly shifting his gaze away.

He picked up his mug and took a sip of his coffee.

The bitterness spread instantly from the tip of his tongue to his entire mouth, yet his expression remained unchanged.

His thumb gently caressed the rim of the mug, his eyes falling on the cup Roseanne had used.

She seemed to have always liked her coffee with cream, less bitter that way.

Murray reached for the cup and took a light sip.

Indeed, he wasn't wrong.

They had lived together for six years, not six months, not six days.

Six whole years.

How could anyone say he didn't know her?

No, he understood her better than anyone else!

So...

out the floor-to-ceiling window. Giving

though not now, but in

of the coffee. He used to love his Americano black, but since she didn't like it,

wasn't hard at all,

hadn't Roseanne pushed

he knew how to hide, how to

quiet, unassuming way, he infiltrated her life like a frog being boiled in

spring, subtle and seemingly insignificant, yet crazily nourishing the

feel pressured and naturally let down her

do it, why couldn't

drinks last night did indeed

returned in an

moment, Murray suddenly saw

wouldn't happen overnight; the more you push,

past actions had already put her on guard. To get close again, he had to take a different approach, letting her believe he truly had

he might have

QUMS

now,

she no longer looked impatient when

...

and her

they had a full day of classes ahead and decided to pop in for a coffee to

one?" she asked with a smile, her gaze casually catching

Grace's eyes flickered.