A familiar feeling assaulted .
It was a design similar to the tattoo on Nora Scott’s small forearm.
The difference was, two wild geese were flying back, and the word was: Begin.
She is End, he is Begin.
The aning is self-evident, needing no explanation.
"Where did you get it?"
In my mind, Pedro Langley’s question from that night when he was drunk suddenly echoed.
In my view, Pedro Langley rolled up his sleeve to the elbow, and besides the tattoo on his healthy skin, there were bruises.
Nora Scott furrowed her brow slightly, lowered her eyelids, her gaze resting on his elbow.
Quite interesting indeed.
The two of them, one unilaterally announcing an end, the other unilaterally announcing a beginning.
After a while, Nora Scott asked, sowhat skeptically, "Did I not make it clear?"
On New Year’s Eve, Nora Scott had made it clear to Pedro Langley, she thought Pedro chose to give up, so she was able to interact with him without any qualms.
Pedro Langley calmly looked at her and said, "You made it clear."
Nora Scott raised an eyebrow, "So?"
Pedro Langley said, "You didn’t ask my opinion."
"So," Nora Scott’s eyes reflected the familiar yet unfamiliar pattern, her slightly lowered eyelids concealed the emotions in her eyes, she asked, "This is your opinion?"
"Yes."
Pedro Langley gave a noncommittal answer.
If she insisted on ending it, he would forcefully start it.
One ends, one begins, in circles, even forming dead knots, yet still tied together.
Fingers clutching the dicine bottle tightened slightly, and a few seconds later, loosened a bit.
Nora Scott paused briefly and said, "Wash it off, otherwise you’ll never find a wife."
Looking directly into Nora Scott’s eyes, Pedro Langley was laid-back and indifferent, saying, "Then I won’t marry."
Then I won’t marry.
He said it casually, carelessly, and without reason.
Nora Scott chuckled lightly, "You’re not a child."
Pedro Langley said, "Precisely because I’m not a child."
What he ant: This isn’t youthful impulse but a well-considered answer.
Yet, this answer is too stubborn, too shortsighted.
"..."
Nora Scott was montarily stunned.
One can only reason with those who are reasonable.
Nora Scott, who never liked to reason, knew this all too well. She couldn’t find a reason to counter Pedro Langley’s decision because such a decision itself lacks any rationale.
She looked at Pedro Langley.
Pedro Langley looked back at her.
They just stared at each other.
Eventually, Pedro Langley with a resigned lift of his eyebrow took initiative, "First, apply the dicine?"
"Do it yourself."
Irritated, Nora Scott threw the dicine bottle at him.
Pedro Langley caught it with his right hand, then opened his palm and handed it back.
He looked up, eting Nora Scott’s gaze, and said, "It hurts."
The simple "It hurts" was said as calmly as an emotionless machine.
This sounded even more fake than when she recited lines while acting.
If she hadn’t been hurt before, Nora Scott might not care, but having experienced pain, she knew—for all his calmness, it genuinely hurt.
Pausing montarily, she took the dicine bottle back, and while she unscrewed the cap, she grumbled, "A crying child gets fed, doesn’t it?"
"Yes."
Pedro Langley candidly admitted, shalessly adding after she sat down beside him, "And what’s done is done."
Nora Scott has as many strengths as weaknesses.
One strength is: she knows how to separate issues.
Her desire to avoid emotional entanglent with him is one thing.
Him taking a hit for her, she feels responsible—that’s another.
She doesn’t mix the two matters, so she won’t ignore his injury just because he made things clear.
"Shut up."
Nora Scott glared at him.
Pedro Langley obediently remained silent.
There were bruises on his small forearm, slightly swollen, the liquid dicine on the skin felt chilly.
Nora Scott’s fingers pressed down, cool like the dicine, the pads gently massaging, not too hard not too light, causing a slight pain to the wound.
Yet Pedro Langley’s brow didn’t furrow; he soothingly watched her.
Sotis observing her lowered brows, sotis watching her fingers massaging the dicine, his view was filled with her, every move, he never grew tired of watching.
Nora Scott noticed his gaze, slightly furrowed her brow, and after smoothing the dicine, she withdrew her fingers.
While screwing the cap, Nora Scott glanced at his tattoo again, feeling it an eyesore, "You’re really not washing it off?"
"Nope."
An answer without hesitation.
"..."
Nora Scott secretly gritted her teeth.
Usually, it’s her causing distress to others, yet unexpectedly, she was the one annoyed by Pedro Langley.
Having screwed the cap tightly, Nora Scott tossed it into the dical box, then found two ice packs and threw them to Pedro Langley.
"I’m going out, chill with these yourself."
"Sure."
Understanding Nora Scott’s current frustrated mindset, Pedro Langley wisely refrained from asking more questions.
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