It seemed like that was when he began to leave notes for her.
Every time she woke up late, he would write a note, place it with a pen on the bedside table, the handwriting strong and vigorous.
Sometimes it was just one sentence, sometimes a few, briefly informing her of his whereabouts.
These were not sweet nothings.
But now, in Qiao Xiaonan's eyes, every sentence, every word, even every punctuation, is treasured.
She held the note saying "Qiaoqiao, wait for me at home tonight!", her slim fingers resting on the word "home".
Feeling the smoothness of the paper, although it was just an ordinary note, it almost brought her to tears. She imagined Amo writing each word, each punctuation, the action, the expression, and the mood, her tears began flowing ever more.
Drips landed on the note. Afraid of wetting the precious words, she quickly moved the note away and wiped the tears at the corner of her eyes with her sleeves.
