After years, they were 40.
Yeah, not too young, but still not too old for love.
Of course, they met again.
He's still quiet, as she thought.
She's still pretty, as he thought.
He's so adorable.
She's so precious.
"Your hair's... pretty."
"That's 'cos I combed it a hundred times." She cheekily smiled at him and made him laugh.
"You still doing that?"
"Of course, I'm meeting the one I like, I should look pretty."
"But you always miss four numbers." They continued to chat while taking a stroll.
"Maybe that's why it didn't work out every time before." They both smiled as they stare into each other's eyes.
"Well, I'm always here to count with you."
"Yeah," she said as she intertwined their hands together. And she continued, "But this time, it's not how many times I comb this hair anymore."