Loving Him Was Like Walking on Ice—And I Fell Through

He never believed that I loved him. Over the years, I've tried countless times to marry him, but he always rejected me.

I didn't even have the chance to explain myself; I could only helplessly write “I love you” over and over again.

When others mocked and doubted me, Nathan never cared. He even indulged their gossip.

As the phone screen dimmed, I remained standing there, lost in thought.

If he didn't believe me, then why did he choose me?

I didn't know where to go, and when my thoughts returned, my soul was already floating at the entrance of the villa.

Before I even got close, I saw a vast sea of golden flowers—sunflowers everywhere.

On the way here, I'd heard many things about Nathan.

They said he had been looking for me all these years, trying to mend our relationship.

Everyone thought I was ungrateful, saying I was cold and heartless.

If I truly loved him, why did I disappear for a year, never giving Nathan a chance to change?

But they didn't know that I had waited for Nathan for seven years—I loved him for seven years.

Nathan said I liked sunflowers, so the media eagerly reported that he planted a field of sunflowers for me.

This deep expression of affection actually revealed a false sense of camaraderie.

I don't like sunflowers; the last gift I left was that field of sunflowers.

Even the flower's language, "silent love", was repeatedly mentioned, forced onto Nathan.

His influence was too powerful, and naturally, no one cared about the small patch of flowers in the backyard that truly belonged to me.

Returning here after a year, I only felt lost.

My hands passed through the glass door, and the lightweight feeling of my body reminded me once again of the reality of my death.

I saw the many picture frames hanging on the living room walls, each containing the love letters I had written.

That was when Nathan first doubted me.

He didn't believe in love; his friends looked down on me, a mute.

They jokingly asked if I was with Nathan for money, their tones frivolous.

I blushed and frantically tried to explain in sign language, forgetting that these young masters didn't understand sign language.

Nathan never said a word; he just stood there, watching the farce with a cold expression.

To prove myself, I wrote many love letters, detailing my affection word by word.

Those letters were later thrown to the ground during our arguments and dismissed by Nathan as trash.

He said he didn't believe in those insincere words and mocked my lack of sincerity.

I cried as I picked up those scattered papers, unable to utter a sound.

But now, atop those love letters, there were red markings.

Every word I had written had a response below it—Nathan's belated confession.

It turns out, he always knew I was telling the truth and he had always been following my actions.

But Nathan repeatedly pushed me away for his ridiculous pride.

He denied me over and over again, saying hurtful things, yet begged me to come back each time.

Because of Nathan's attitude, everyone around him looked down on me.

They all thought I was pestering him relentlessly, unaware that Nathan and I were each other's salvation.

I liked the handsome boy in school, and he liked having me by his side.

He always confided in me, stood up for me, unwilling to let me suffer.

Nathan once learned sign language for me, but over time, he simply forgot.

All those beautiful memories, discarded halfway through.