Amanda Smith listened to his words and, contrary to expectation, started to laugh: "Evan, don't say such things..."
She dared not even imagine his affection anymore.
If this truly was affection, then it was an affection so painful it hurt deeply.
She used to dream that he might fall for her too, but fifteen years had passed. Time had taught her enough lessons, and she knew all too well that her love was hopeless.
Now, she merely waited for her passion to turn to ashes, for time to erode her love, to liberate her from this feeling.
She was still so young, with so much time ahead of her, time enough to forget him, enough to fall in love with someone new.
Just as she had once fallen for him.
Afterwards, they drank a bit more wine, aged red wine with an aroma so inviting it was intoxicating. Amanda Smith had a few glasses, and her cheeks turned a rosy hue.
