To Hate, To Love, And To Wed
he answers, immediately crouching down and petting the dog like this is his small way of telling me I shouldn’t be asking any more questions.
A small smile tugs my lips as I stare at the man. He’s so big and brooding, but is always afraid of answering my questions, and sometimes even looking me in the eye. And I can tell it’s not because he doesn’t want to tell the truth, but because he’s afraid of my reaction to it.
Translation: He’s afraid of me.
“You did good, baby,” he tells the dog, petting her aggressively as she licks his face. “But you have to be more attentive, Joy. You almost lost your mommy there.”
Bab Populer