Tight, Subtle Trembling
"Cynthia, let's get married..."
Just a simple sentence, without fancy rhetoric, and certainly no vows of eternal love as a prelude. Yet, this straightforward statement exploded in her ears like a thunderclap.
Hearing this, Cynthia's eyelashes trembled in disarray. Though Tristan's words were simple, she understood the depth of their meaning. He was using this way to prove his intentions to her. Through life and death, through poverty and wealth, through the ups and downs of life, he would never leave her. He was willing to spend his entire life cherishing and protecting her.
Cynthia felt as if her throat had been stuffed with cotton. Uncontrollable bitterness and soreness surged up, rendering her voiceless. Warm tears flowed uncontrollably, gradually blurring her vision.
Cynthia silently bit her cheek, and her hand, which had rested on the table, silently fell onto her lap, tightly gripping her dress. Why hadn't she met Tristan earlier in her life?