Sophie Keaton had asked her what kind of man could win her heart in the future.
She thought for a moment. There was actually so much she wanted to say.
For example, a man who would dote on her and indulge her, who would have her back no matter what, who would change his set schedule for her sake.
For example, a man who, when she startled awake at night, would pull her into his arms and groggily coax her, and who would get out of bed to pour her water the moment she murmured she was thirsty.
For example, a man who would be patient and gentle with her, who would listen to her ramblings, taking her words to heart and never just brushing them aside.
For example, a man who, if she mentioned wanting to go somewhere, would drop everything without a second thought to take her there.
So many things, all gradually converging on one person. He was the moon in the sky—high and unreachable. A man she could never be with.
A man whose path would never again cross hers.
