Serena Brown had a bitter taste in her heart.
The sour plum candy she held ever so gently close to her heart during her teenage years, although bitter, was wrapped in her endless affection and turned into a piece of honey. She would comfort herself by biting into it from time to time, forcing herself to forget its original taste. She treasured, cherished it, even hid it in her utopian world, but when she returned to reality, only the bitter taste lingered in her mouth. It was like it had expired, leaving her unsettled for a long time.
That cherished period of time, in Wilson Finley's eyes, was merely a simple relationship of having saved her once.
Beyond that.
There seemed to be nothing else.
He was always a gentleman and even gave an illusion of gentleness.
He would consider her dignity, but he would never respond to her emotions.
Did he just not like her?
Or did he not have a heart at all?
