She finally returned.
When they met again, she brought a bouquet of baby's breath. Her smile was as gentle as ever, as if nothing had happened.
"These flowers are easy to care for," she said. "They'll last a long time even if you forget to water them."
Leo took the flowers, a pang of sadness in his heart. Her thoughtfulness reminded him of his own mother from his childhood—the woman who had quietly prepared warm milk for him before he even knew what "emotion" was.
Memories welled up like a spring. For the first time, he understood that he hadn't not felt love; he just hadn't reached out to touch it for too long.
She took him to the alley where she grew up. There were mottled walls, a lemon tree by the door, and an old swing. She said this was her root, her softest place.
In that moment, he felt a sense of nostalgia and stability he had never experienced before, like taking a sip from a clear spring of childhood.
【Echo from the Mirror】
When you recall moments of "being treated with kindness," what comes to mind? That memory isn't meant for you to live in the past, but to remind you that you were loved and can still be loved again.