When she giggled he would smile, put his hand on top of her head. They would laugh over movies, over his favourite songs, over life.

'Don't love me,' he whispered. 'Doesn't matter if I do, just don't love me.'

She would cry and he would stay.

Because when they parted and went home, between phone calls and texts, she was never belong in his life.

And the kisses were not shared between true lovers. A shodow of someone else's presence.

Perhaps because she could not find tears in confused heart. Thus she told him, 'I'm afraid you would hate me.'

He would laugh and say, 'Silly girl. You are special.'

Only so she could smile.

Tomorrow there will be only forgive and forget. Tomorrow there will be no space for complique. Tomorrow he will be different and she will change.

Maybe someday she'll no longer be a second best.