As the sky brightened slightly, Joshua Hughes played with her fingers under the faint morning light from the window. Every part of her body seemed to attract him, making her a treasure in his eyes.
He gently caressed her cheek, softly stroking her delicate facial skin, then slowly moved downward, lightly covering her mouth. She slept as if in a coma, unaware of anything.
He looked at her with such seriousness, such attention, as if he wanted to imprint her beauty entirely in his mind: "Avery, do you love me?" Only when she was asleep did he dare to ask this. Her plea yesterday to not leave him had exploded in his heart, a huge tumultuous tide surging forth from the burst crack, drowning him. He wouldn't leave her—the one to leave first wouldn't be him.
He had never asked anyone before, not even Donna. It's the most ordinary phrase between lovers, yet a man like him never expected to say it in his lifetime, because any woman would desecrate this love. But then he met her.
