Nina Donovan stood under a streetlight.
She watched Jasper Sherwood walk toward her, step by step, only for him to pass by her, his expression blank.
It was as if Nina could smell it—the fresh, clean scent of laundry soap that had clung to him back when he was a boy in the summer.
She couldn't help but look back. His silhouette looked lonely and heavy.
When she heard him say, "I don't like you anymore," she didn't feel much sadness. Instead, there was a sense of relief. She could finally leave this place without any lingering attachments.
She tried to curve her lips into a smile, but tears streamed down her face uncontrollably.
She raised a hand to wipe them away and cursed, "Jasper Sherwood, you bastard."
"I don't like you anymore either."
She walked in the opposite direction from Jasper Sherwood and entered the hospital.
Meanwhile, Jasper Sherwood suddenly stopped and glanced behind him.
But she was already gone. The space under the streetlight was empty.
