The large hand with calloused fingertips gently caressed the girl's delicate cheeks, tracing them as if holding the most precious treasure in the world.
She slept soundly, while he watched her with infatuation.
She was the little demon that lived in the depths of his heart, the little thing he had watched grow up; he had kept her by his side like a cat, treasuring her in the palm of his hand.
As he watched her, he couldn't help but slowly lower his head and softly kiss her lips, longing to relieve his love-sickness, yet fearing he might wake her.
Perhaps no man in the world had ever done what he did—watching, waiting, and hoping for his wife to grow up, enduring fourteen springs before finally taking her home, and after bringing her home, still treating her with utmost care and tenderness.
A man willing to wait for a woman for fourteen years.
