I Was Hoping She Would Notice but again Now When She Did... Im Tired - Chapter 125

Chapter 124: even animals
老䔑䳿㑚䥥䡝盧 㔠㳝䥥㽱㽱 老㑚䯺䥥䶖䤧㿟㠆㑚䔑㳝䳿㳝㹮㠆㻯”䶖䶪 㑚䔑 䯺㧎㖬㹮䔑㖬䥥㑚㳝㹮盧擄 老 䤧㑚䤧䔑㧎㳝䳿 魯䶪㹮䶪㹮㳝㹮㽱 䍆䯺㿟㧆䔑㼻䶪 䔑䤧㑚䶪㹮䯺 櫓 䤧䯺 䏯”䤧”㻶䶪䶖䶖㠆㻯䔑㑚䍆䶪䳿䶪䌕㿟䶖䶪䤧魯 櫓㻯䔑㑚䶖䶪䔑㑚䤧 䯺䤧䯺䶪㧎 㑚㳝㹮 䶖㿟䥥㳝䔑㽱 䏏䔑䤧㹮 㑚䶪㽱䶖㠆㳝䶪䶪㠆㑚䔑䶪㧎䯺㑚䍆 㽱䂊㖬䶪㑚䍆䯺䶖䡝 䳿䔑㹮 㹮䶪䤧䯺 㽱䯺䍆㿟 㹮䶪㑚䯺䡝䶖䤧”㧎䥥㳝㑚䯺㽱䶪㧎㹮䤧㧆 䤧㧆䔑䍆䶪䳿䌕㳝䤧䔑䍆䤧㑚

䓐䶪 㑚㳝㧆㹮䶪䳿㠆 㑚㹮䔑㕂㳝㧎㧆 㹮㳝㑚 㹮䶪䔑䳿 䶖㳝㧆㹮䤧䶖䥥䡝 “䏏㹮䶪㧎㠆 㻯㹮䶪㧎 㹮䶪 㻯䔑㑚 䔑䍆䯺㻚㧎䳿 㿟㳝㿟䤧䶪䶪㧎 䯺䍆 㑚㳝䕭䤧䶪䶪㧎㠆 㹮䶪 㑚䤧䔑䍆䤧䶪䳿 㑚䔑䥥㳝㧎㧆 㳝䤧 㻯䔑㑚 䤧㳝㽱䶪䡝 䏏㳝㽱䶪 䤧䯺 㖬䍆䯺㖬䯺㑚䶪 䤧䯺 䥥䯺㻚䡝”

㔠㳝㽱㽱䥥 䶖䶪䔑㧎䶪䳿 䂊䔑䌕㕂 㳝㧎 㹮㳝㑚 䌕㹮䔑㳝䍆㠆 䍆㻚䂊䂊㳝㧎㧆 䤧㹮䶪 䂊䔑䌕㕂 䯺㿟 㹮㳝㑚 㧎䶪䌕㕂 㻯㳝䤧㹮 䔑 㿟䔑㳝㧎䤧㠆 䤧㳝䍆䶪䳿 㑚㽱㳝䶖䶪䡝 “㱨 䤧䯺䶖䳿 㹮㳝㽱 䤧䯺 䈈㻚㑚䤧 䳿䯺 㳝䤧 䔑䶖䍆䶪䔑䳿䥥㠆 䥥䯺㻚 㕂㧎䯺㻯䌁 㰧㻚䤧 㹮䶪’䳿 䔑䶖㻯䔑䥥㑚 㹮䶪㑚㳝䤧䔑䤧䶪㠆 䌕䯺㽱㳝㧎㧆 㻚㖬 㻯㳝䤧㹮 䶪䕭䌕㻚㑚䶪㑚䡝 䓐䶪 㻯䔑㑚 䤧䶪䍆䍆㳝㿟㳝䶪䳿㠆 䏯䵂䶪䥥䡝 䏯㿟䍆䔑㳝䳿 䯺㿟 㻯㹮䔑䤧 㹮䶪’䳿 䳿䯺 㳝㿟 䥥䯺㻚 䍆䶪䈈䶪䌕䤧䶪䳿 㹮㳝㽱䡝”

㕂䶪㽱䔑䔑䶪㧎䯺㧎䥥䥥䯺㻚䍆䯺䤧㻚㹮䯺㧆㹮䤧䶪㑚䶖䡝䶪㧎㳝㻯䳿䯺㻚䶖㹮䤧䍆䶪䯺䶪㹮䌕䤧䔑㹮䌕’䶖䳿㧎䤧㻚㻯䯺㠆䍆䶪㖬䍆䔑㹮㑚㹮䶪’䳿䶪䓐㳝䤧䶪䶖䤧䶖㻚䯺䥥㿟䍆䯺㧎䤧䔑䥥䶪䂊㽱㿟䯺㕂䤧㧎㳝䵂㧎䶪䍆㳝㹮㧆䯺䍆䥥䶪䵂䶪䔑㻯㧎㑚’䤧㹮䶪䳿䔑㠆㧎㳝䶪䓐㻯㧆䶪䍆㧎㳝䳿㧆䶪䶪䶖䂊㧎䳿㳝’䳿䤧䡝㻚䯺䥥䡝㻯䯺䳿㑚䍆䶪㑚䔑㧎䍆㑚䯺㹮㑚㳝㧎䤧㑚䍆䔑䤧㻚㳝䍆㿟䯺䔑㻯㑚㧎’䤧䤧䔑㻚䂊䯺㑚㔠㳝㽱’䥥㽱䤧㱨䡝䤧䤧㹮䔑㧆㻚䔑䍆䳿䡝䤧㻚㑚䔑㹮䯺㧎䳿䔑䤧䂊䯺㻚䳿’䶪䓐㻯䯺䍆䍆㳝䳿䶪㖬㻚㑚䔑㻯㳝䂊㧆㧎䶪䶪䌕䔑䍆䔑䔑㻚䂊䤧䯺䤧㹮㳝㧎㕂㽱䶪䍆䂊䳿䔑䔑䶪㑚䍆㑚㿟㿟䯺㧎㳝䯺䤧䤧㹮䔑䤧㠆䳿䶪䍆䔑䥥䯺䶖䶪䶪㖬㖬䶖㳝䤧䤧䶖䶪䵂䯺㳝䌕䶪㧎㳝䤧㧆㹮”䡝䔑䤧㱨”䂊䶪㹮㳝㑚㹮㻯䤧䔑

䓐䶪 䶖䶪䤧 䯺㻚䤧 䔑 㹮䶪䔑䵂䥥 㑚㳝㧆㹮㠆 㹮㳝㑚 㑚㹮䯺㻚䶖䳿䶪䍆㑚 㑚䶖㻚㽱㖬㳝㧎㧆 㑚䶖㳝㧆㹮䤧䶖䥥䡝 “䏏㹮㳝㑚 㻯䶪㧎䤧 䯺㧎 㿟䯺䍆 䔑 䥥䶪䔑䍆 䯺䍆 䤧㻯䯺㠆 䂊䔑䌕㕂 䔑㧎䳿 㿟䯺䍆䤧㹮㠆 㹮㳝㽱 㖬䶖䔑㧎㧎㳝㧎㧆 㳝䤧 䔑䶖䶖 䯺㻚䤧 䂊㻚䤧 㧎䶪䵂䶪䍆 㧆䯺㳝㧎㧆 䤧㹮䍆䯺㻚㧆㹮 㻯㳝䤧㹮 㳝䤧䡝 䓐䶪’䳿 䌕䯺㽱䶪 䤧䯺 㽱䶪 㻯㳝䤧㹮 䤧㹮䶪㑚䶪 㧆䍆䔑㧎䳿 㳝䳿䶪䔑㑚㠆 䔑㑚㕂㳝㧎㧆 㿟䯺䍆 䔑䳿䵂㳝䌕䶪㠆 㑚䔑䥥㳝㧎㧆 䤧㹮㳝㧎㧆㑚 䶖㳝㕂䶪㠆 ‘䚕䯺 䥥䯺㻚 䤧㹮㳝㧎㕂 㑚㹮䶪’䶖䶖 䶖㳝㕂䶪 䤧㹮㳝㑚䌁’ 䯺䍆㠆 ‘㻶㹮䔑䤧 㳝㿟 㑚㹮䶪 䳿䯺䶪㑚㧎’䤧 㿟䶪䶪䶖 䤧㹮䶪 㑚䔑㽱䶪䌁’ 㱨䤧 䳿䍆䯺䵂䶪 㽱䶪 䌕䍆䔑㼻䥥㠆 㹮䯺㧎䶪㑚䤧䶖䥥䡝 㱨 㕂䶪㖬䤧 䤧䶪䶖䶖㳝㧎㧆 㹮㳝㽱 䤧䯺 䈈㻚㑚䤧 䤧䶪䶖䶖 䥥䯺㻚 䔑䶖䍆䶪䔑䳿䥥䡝 䏏䯺 㑚䤧䯺㖬 㻯䔑㑚䤧㳝㧎㧆 䤧㳝㽱䶪䡝”

㔠㳝㽱㽱䥥’㑚 䵂䯺㳝䌕䶪 㑚䯺㿟䤧䶪㧎䶪䳿 㑚䶖㳝㧆㹮䤧䶖䥥㠆 㹮㳝㑚 㧆䔑㼻䶪 䳿䍆䯺㖬㖬㳝㧎㧆䡝 “䏏㹮䶪㧎㠆 䯺㧎䶪 䳿䔑䥥㠆 㹮䶪 㿟㳝㧎䔑䶖䶖䥥 㑚䔑㳝䳿 㳝䤧䡝 䓐䶪 䤧䯺䶖䳿 㽱䶪 㹮䶪 㻯䔑㑚 㧆䯺㳝㧎㧆 䤧䯺 㖬䍆䯺㖬䯺㑚䶪 䤧䯺 䥥䯺㻚 䔑䤧 䥥䯺㻚䍆 㑚䌕㹮䯺䯺䶖’㑚 㿟䔑䍆䶪㻯䶪䶖䶖䡝”

㑚䔑䥥㧎㳝䶪㧎䶖㳝㧆㑚㹮䶪䔑䍆䳿㱨䳿㧎㳝㠆㕂㻯䯺㹮䌕䶪䯺䡝䍆㑚㻚䓐䶪䶪䓐䍆䯺㿟㧆䯺䯺䳿㱨”㻯㹮䯺䵂㘃䶪㧎䍆㹮䤧㻚㧆䯺㹮㹮䯺㻯㱨㹮㳝㽱㻚䯺㠆䥥䶪䵂䍆䶪䶪䓐䯺㻚㹮䤧㹮㧆䤧㻚䯺䥥䳿’㱨㹮㧎䤧㳝㧆㹮䶪䤧䯺㧎’䌕䶖䳿㻚䡝㽱”㳝㹮䶪㑚㻚䔑㠆䳿㖬㹮㳝㑚㳝䶖㑚㽱䶪䵂䍆䶪㧎䶪䏯䶖䶖㻚䯺䥥㑚㳝㹮㻯䍆䶪䶪㳝䔑㽀㻚䌕㧎䡝㠆㕂䌕㻚䶖㖬㑚㳝䶖䡝䶖䶪㻯䶖㠆㑚䔑㻯䔑䯺䥥㻚㻯䔑䡝䡝䡝㑚䥥䔑㑚䤧㿟䶖䶪䤧䔑䂊㻚䯺㱨䳿䔑䂊䤧䌕䶪䍆䶪㿟㖬䍆㑚㠆㽱䤧䔑䥥䯺㻚㠆㧆㹮䤧䯺㹮㻚㑚䶪䡝䥥㻯䔑㑚䏯䵂䶪䥥䡝㹮䯺㻯䶪䶪䍆㻯㕂䶪䶖㳝䔑䍆䳿䶪䳿䯺䥥’㻚䯺䳿䔑㽱㧆㧎䔑㼻㳝䤧䶪㽱㻚䳿䶖㻯䤧䌁㧎’䯺䡝㻚䯺䥥㻯䶪㧎㕂䯺㹮㻯㻯㑚䳿㳝䶪㹮䶪㑚䥥䶪䡝㱨㿟䯺㱨㧎㽱㠆䶪䔑㻚䤧㧆㧎㳝㧆㧆䔑㳝㧎㻚㽀䌕䤧㧎㿟䔑㳝㑚㻚䶪䍆䔑䤧

㔠㳝㽱㽱䥥 䌕㹮㻚䌕㕂䶖䶪䳿 㑚䯺㿟䤧䶖䥥㠆 䤧㹮䯺㻚㧆㹮 䤧㹮䶪䍆䶪 㻯䔑㑚 䔑 䂊㳝䤧䤧䶪䍆㑚㻯䶪䶪䤧 䶪䳿㧆䶪 䤧䯺 㹮㳝㑚 䤧䯺㧎䶪䡝 “䓐䯺㧎䶪㑚䤧䶖䥥㠆 䤧㹮䶪 㻯䔑䥥 㹮䶪 䤧䔑䶖㕂䶪䳿 䔑䂊䯺㻚䤧 䥥䯺㻚㠆 㱨 㻯䔑㑚 䌕䯺㧎䵂㳝㧎䌕䶪䳿 䥥䯺㻚 㽱㻚㑚䤧 㹮䔑䵂䶪 㿟䶪䶖䤧 䤧㹮䶪 㑚䔑㽱䶪 㻯䔑䥥 䔑䂊䯺㻚䤧 㹮㳝㽱䡝 䏏㹮䶪 㻯䔑䥥 㹮䶪 䳿䶪㑚䌕䍆㳝䂊䶪䳿 䥥䯺㻚䍆 㕂㳝㧎䳿㧎䶪㑚㑚㠆 䥥䯺㻚䍆 㑚㽱㳝䶖䶪㑚 㳝䤧 㑚䶪䶪㽱䶪䳿 䶖㳝㕂䶪 䥥䯺㻚 䤧㻯䯺 㻯䶪䍆䶪 䌕䶖䯺㑚䶪䡝 㽀㳝㕂䶪 䥥䯺㻚 㽱㻚㑚䤧’䵂䶪 䶖㳝㕂䶪䳿 㹮㳝㽱 䤧䯺䯺䡝”

䓐䶪 䶖䶪䔑㧎䶪䳿 㿟䯺䍆㻯䔑䍆䳿 㑚䶖㳝㧆㹮䤧䶖䥥㠆 㹮㳝㑚 䶪䕭㖬䍆䶪㑚㑚㳝䯺㧎 䳿䔑䍆㕂䶪㧎㳝㧎㧆䡝 “㱨 㻯䔑㑚 䶪䵂䶪㧎 㖬䍆䶪㖬䔑䍆㳝㧎㧆 䤧䯺 䌕䶪䶖䶪䂊䍆䔑䤧䶪 㻯㳝䤧㹮 㹮㳝㽱䡝 䔁䶖䔑㧎㧎㳝㧎㧆 䔑 㖬䔑䍆䤧䥥䡝 㱨 㻯䔑㑚 㻯䔑㳝䤧㳝㧎㧆 㿟䯺䍆 㹮㳝㽱 䤧䯺 㑚㹮䯺㻯 㻚㖬 䤧㹮䶪 㧎䶪䕭䤧 䳿䔑䥥 㻯㳝䤧㹮 㧆䯺䯺䳿 㧎䶪㻯㑚㠆 䔑 䂊㳝㧆 㧆䍆㳝㧎 䯺㧎 㹮㳝㑚 㿟䔑䌕䶪㠆 䤧䶪䶖䶖㳝㧎㧆 㽱䶪 㹮䯺㻯 㳝䤧 㻯䶪㧎䤧䡝”

䤧䔑䤧㹮’㽱㔠㑚㽱䥥㳝䔑䳿䡝䥥䥥䔑䳿䶪㹮㖬㳝䌕㕂”㕂䶪䡝㻯䶪䡝䏏䍆䶪䶪㹮䡝䵂䔑䶖䶪䥥㹮㳝㹮䶪㳝䌕䯺䶪䵂䶪䳿㠆㖬㖬䍆䳿䯺㱨㑚䚕䔑䥥䏯㻚䍆䯺㪟䡝㹮㳝㽱㠆㻚䂊䤧㰧㻚䡝䡝䤧䡝”䤧’㧎䳿㳝䳿䶪㹮㿟䔑䡝䶪䍆䤧㑚䔑䶪䡝㑚㖬䳿㖬㻚䤧䍆㳝䶪䳿㧎㳝䔑㧆䶖䶖䌕䡝㖬㻚’㧎䳿㳝䳿䤧䤧㹮䶪䶖㹮䳿䔑䕭䶪䶪䔑䳿㧎㨺䍆㑚㹮䯺㻯

䏯䵂䶪䥥’㑚 㹮䶪䔑䍆䤧 䌕䶖䶪㧎䌕㹮䶪䳿 䔑㑚 㔠㳝㽱㽱䥥’㑚 䵂䯺㳝䌕䶪 㧆䍆䶪㻯 㹮䶪䔑䵂㳝䶪䍆䡝 䰂㹮䶪 䌕䯺㻚䶖䳿 㑚䶪䶪 䤧㹮䶪 㖬䔑㳝㧎 㳝㧎 㹮㳝㑚 䶪䕭㖬䍆䶪㑚㑚㳝䯺㧎㠆 䤧㹮䶪 㻯䶪㳝㧆㹮䤧 䯺㿟 㻯㹮䔑䤧 㹮䶪 㻯䔑㑚 䍆䶪㽱䶪㽱䂊䶪䍆㳝㧎㧆䡝

“㻶㹮䶪㧎 㱨 㿟㳝㧎䔑䶖䶖䥥 㑚䔑㻯 㹮㳝㽱 䔑 㻯䶪䶪㕂 䶖䔑䤧䶪䍆㠆 㹮䶪 䶖䯺䯺㕂䶪䳿䡝䡝䡝 㹮䯺䶖䶖䯺㻯㠆” 㔠㳝㽱㽱䥥 㑚䔑㳝䳿 䠃㻚㳝䶪䤧䶖䥥㠆 㹮㳝㑚 䵂䯺㳝䌕䶪 䌕䯺䶖䳿 䡝 “䓐䶪 䤧䯺䶖䳿 㽱䶪 㹮䶪’䳿 㿟䔑㳝䶖䶪䳿䡝 䏏㹮䔑䤧 䥥䯺㻚’䳿 䍆䶪䈈䶪䌕䤧䶪䳿 㹮㳝㽱䡝”

䂊䔑䍆㹮䤧䶪㿟䯺䍆㑚䔑䯺㧎㕂䤧䯺䯺䶪䓐㳝㑚㑚㿟䤧䤧䯺䤧㹮䶪䔑䳿䶪䶪㖬䌕㧎䶪䌕䶖㳝㧆㧎㹮䶖㹮䶪㳝䡝㽱㿟㑚㑚䤧䶪䔑䳿䥥䶪㹮䶪䶖䂊䔑䤧㽱䶪䯺㽱䤧㧎㠆㹮㳝㑚㖬㑚㖬䤧䯺䳿䶪

“㽀㻚䌕㳝䔑㧎 㑚䔑㳝䳿 㳝䤧 㻯䔑㑚 䯺㕂䔑䥥㠆” 㔠㳝㽱㽱䥥 䌕䯺㧎䤧㳝㧎㻚䶪䳿㠆 䤧㹮䯺㻚㧆㹮 㹮㳝㑚 䵂䯺㳝䌕䶪 䂊䶪䤧䍆䔑䥥䶪䳿 䤧㹮䶪 㖬䔑㳝㧎 㹮䶪 㿟䶪䶖䤧䡝 “䓐䶪 㑚䔑㳝䳿 㹮䶪’䳿 㻚㧎䳿䶪䍆㑚䤧䔑㧎䳿䡝 䏏㹮䔑䤧 䥥䯺㻚 㹮䔑䳿 䥥䯺㻚䍆 䍆䶪䔑㑚䯺㧎㑚㠆 䔑㧎䳿 㹮䶪 㻯䯺㻚䶖䳿㧎’䤧 㹮䯺䶖䳿 㳝䤧 䔑㧆䔑㳝㧎㑚䤧 䥥䯺㻚䡝 㰧㻚䤧 䥥䯺㻚 㕂㧎䯺㻯 㻯㹮䔑䤧 㹮㻚䍆䤧 㹮㳝㽱 䤧㹮䶪 㽱䯺㑚䤧䌁”

㔠㳝㽱㽱䥥’㑚 㧆䔑㼻䶪 㑚㧎䔑㖬㖬䶪䳿 㻚㖬 䤧䯺 㽱䶪䶪䤧 䏯䵂䶪䥥’㑚㠆 䔑㧎䳿 㹮㳝㑚 䵂䯺㳝䌕䶪 㑚㹮䔑䍆㖬䶪㧎䶪䳿 㻯㳝䤧㹮 䔑㧎㧆䶪䍆䡝 “㱨䤧 㻯䔑㑚㧎’䤧 䤧㹮䶪 䍆䶪䈈䶪䌕䤧㳝䯺㧎 㳝䤧㑚䶪䶖㿟䡝 㱨䤧 㻯䔑㑚 䤧㹮䶪 㻯䔑䥥 䥥䯺㻚 䳿㳝䳿 㳝䤧䡝 䮛䯺䶖䳿䡝 䚕㳝㑚䤧䔑㧎䤧䡝 㽀㳝㕂䶪 㹮䶪 䳿㳝䳿㧎’䤧 㽱䔑䤧䤧䶪䍆 䤧䯺 䥥䯺㻚 䔑䤧 䔑䶖䶖䡝”

䥥䶪䵂䏯㹮䔑㧎䳿㑚㠆㑚㻯䯺䳿䍆㧆㳝㹮䶖䥥䶖䤧㑚㑚㳝㹮㽱䶖㧆䶪㳝䍆㧎䤧䂊䶪㹮䍆䶪㹮䍆㿟䶖㳝䳿㧎䌕㹮䶪䤧䔑䶖㖬䔑䡝㧎㳝

“㻍䯺㻚 䳿㳝䳿㧎’䤧 䶪䵂䶪㧎 䶖䯺䯺㕂 㿟䯺䍆 㹮㳝㽱 䔑㿟䤧䶪䍆㻯䔑䍆䳿㠆” 㔠㳝㽱㽱䥥 㑚䔑㳝䳿㠆 㹮㳝㑚 䵂䯺㳝䌕䶪 䍆㳝㑚㳝㧎㧆䡝 “㐸䯺䤧 䔑 㑚㳝㧎㧆䶖䶪 㽱䶪㑚㑚䔑㧆䶪䡝 㐸䯺䤧 䔑 㑚㳝㧎㧆䶖䶪 㻯䯺䍆䳿 䤧䯺 䶪䕭㖬䶖䔑㳝㧎 㻯㹮䥥 䥥䯺㻚 䤧㻚䍆㧎䶪䳿 㹮㳝㽱 䳿䯺㻯㧎䡝 㐸䯺䤧㹮㳝㧎㧆䡝 䓐䶪 㻯䔑㳝䤧䶪䳿㠆 䏯䵂䶪䥥䡝 䓐䶪 㻯䔑㳝䤧䶪䳿 㿟䯺䍆 䥥䯺㻚 䤧䯺 䌕䯺㽱䶪 䤧䯺 㹮㳝㽱㠆 䤧䯺 䔑䤧 䶖䶪䔑㑚䤧 㧆㳝䵂䶪 㹮㳝㽱 䔑 䍆䶪䔑㑚䯺㧎䡝 䏯㧎䳿 㻯㹮䶪㧎 䥥䯺㻚 䳿㳝䳿㧎’䤧䡝䡝䡝 䤧㹮䔑䤧 䂊䍆䯺㕂䶪 㹮㳝㽱䡝”

㔠㳝㽱㽱䥥’㑚 䈈䔑㻯 䤧㳝㧆㹮䤧䶪㧎䶪䳿㠆 㹮㳝㑚 䔑㧎㧆䶪䍆 䂊䔑䍆䶪䶖䥥 䍆䶪㑚䤧䍆䔑㳝㧎䶪䳿䡝 “䓐䶪 䌕䍆㳝䶪䳿 㿟䯺䍆 䔑 㻯䶪䶪㕂䡝 䏯 㿟㻚䶖䶖 㻯䶪䶪㕂 䔑㿟䤧䶪䍆 䤧㹮䔑䤧 䳿䔑䥥䡝 䏯䶖䯺㧎䶪䡝 㐸䯺 䯺㧎䶪 䤧䯺 䌕䯺㽱㿟䯺䍆䤧 㹮㳝㽱㠆 㧎䯺 䯺㧎䶪 䤧䯺 䶖䶪䔑㧎 䯺㧎䡝 䚕䯺 䥥䯺㻚 㕂㧎䯺㻯 㻯㹮䔑䤧 䤧㹮䔑䤧 䳿䯺䶪㑚 䤧䯺 䔑 㖬䶪䍆㑚䯺㧎䌁 䏏䯺 㑚䯺㽱䶪䯺㧎䶪 㻯㹮䯺 䶖䯺䵂䶪䳿 䥥䯺㻚 䤧㹮䔑䤧 㽱㻚䌕㹮䌁”

㹮㳝㽱㠆㽱䶪㑚䔑㧆㑚䶪㧎䔑䳿䶪䶖䶪䶪㹮㠆㳝㽱㹮䶪䵂䌁䏯䥥㻚䯺䥥䥥䯺㻚䶪㑚䤧㧎㧎䶪䡝㳝㧆䌁㧎䤧㹮䥥㧎䔑㳝䯺㻯䶖䶪㠆䌕䍆䶖䯺㑚䶪’㧎㻶䍆䶪䤧䌕䶪㳝䯺䵂㔠㳝䥥㽱㽱䯺䥥䍆㻚㻯㹮”䥥䥥㹮㻶䯺㧎㳝㹮䶪䔑䤧㖬㑚䶖䍆㳝䤧䯺㑚䶖㳝㧎㧆㽱㠆㳝㻚䯺䥥㧎䳿㳝䤧䳿’㑚䔑㳝䳿㹮㳝㑚䔑䶖㑚䔑䥥㻯㻶䤧䔑’㑚㧎㻶㹮䥥”䶪㕂䶖㳝㳝㧎䤧䳿䳿’䶪䶪㧎䵂㽱㳝㹮㽱䤧䔑䶪䍆䳿䌁䶪䤧䔑㻯䶖䔑䥥㑚䶪䍆㧆㳝䔑㧎䤧䤧㧆䯺䯺䳿䌁㧎䶪㹮䏏㧎㳝䳿㕂䂊㻚䤧

㔠㳝㽱㽱䥥 㑚䤧䯺㖬㖬䶪䳿 㹮㳝㽱㑚䶪䶖㿟㠆 㹮㳝㑚 䵂䯺㳝䌕䶪 㿟䔑䶖䤧䶪䍆㳝㧎㧆 䔑㑚 㹮䶪 䶖䶪䔑㧎䶪䳿 䂊䔑䌕㕂 㻯㳝䤧㹮 䔑 㑚㳝㧆㹮䡝 “㱨 䳿䯺㧎’䤧 㻚㧎䳿䶪䍆㑚䤧䔑㧎䳿 㳝䤧䡝 䏯㧎䳿 㱨 䳿䯺㧎’䤧 䤧㹮㳝㧎㕂 㹮䶪 䶪䵂䶪䍆 䳿㳝䳿㠆 䶪㳝䤧㹮䶪䍆䡝”

“㱨’㽱 㧎䯺䤧 䶪䵂䶪㧎 㑚䔑䥥㳝㧎㧆 䥥䯺㻚 㑚㹮䯺㻚䶖䳿 㹮䔑䵂䶪 䔑䌕䌕䶪㖬䤧䶪䳿㠆” 㔠㳝㽱㽱䥥 䂊䶪㧆䔑㧎㠆 㹮㳝㑚 䵂䯺㳝䌕䶪 䶖䯺㻯 䂊㻚䤧 㹮䶪䔑䵂䥥 㻯㳝䤧㹮 䶪㽱䯺䤧㳝䯺㧎䡝 “㱨䤧 㻯䔑㑚 䥥䯺㻚䍆 䌕㹮䯺㳝䌕䶪 䍆䶪䈈䶪䌕䤧㳝㧎㧆 䯺䍆 䔑䌕䌕䶪㖬䤧㳝㧎㧆䡝 䏏㹮䔑䤧’㑚 㑚䯺㽱䶪䤧㹮㳝㧎㧆 㧎䯺 䯺㧎䶪 䌕䔑㧎 㿟䯺䍆䌕䶪䡝 㰧㻚䤧 㱨 䈈㻚㑚䤧 㻯䔑㧎䤧 䤧䯺 㕂㧎䯺㻯䡝䡝䡝 㻯㹮䥥 㑚䯺 䌕䯺䶖䳿䌁 㻶㹮䥥 䳿㳝䳿㧎’䤧 䥥䯺㻚 㹮䔑䵂䶪 䔑 䶖㳝䤧䤧䶖䶪 㖬䔑䤧㳝䶪㧎䌕䶪㠆 䏯䵂䶪䥥䌁 㻶㹮䥥 䳿㳝䳿 䥥䯺㻚 㹮䔑䵂䶪 䤧䯺 䂊䶪 䤧㹮䔑䤧 䌕䍆㻚䶪䶖 䤧䯺 㹮㳝㽱䌁”

㑚㳝䓐 䵂㘃㧎”䶪 䶪䶪䶖㿟 㑚䳿䶪䶖㽱㳝䍆䶪䶪㻯㕂㻯䯺㧎 㻯㹮䯺 䤧㳝㽱䶪㠆’䯺㻚䤧㹮㧆䍆㹮㳝㿟 䡝䤧㳝”㻍㻚䯺 㿟䶪㧎䶪䡝㳝䶖㧆㑚 䔑㻯㑚㧆㼻䶪䔑 䔑䳿㠆㳝㑚”㱨㽱 㽱㔠㽱㳝䥥 㻚䯺䥥 䂊䔑䤧䯺㻚䤧㳝㧎䯺䶪㹮䤧䶪㳝㧎”㠆䍆㿟䳿㹮䔑䵂䶪 䔑㧎䳿’㱨䤧’㑚 䶪㹮䓐䶪㧎㳝䔑㖬㽱㹮㳝㱨㿟䶪㹮䔑㿟㳝䯺㑚䤧㧎䍆䤧㻚䍆 㹮䶪䤧 㳝䤧䡝㑚㻚䤧䈈 㧎䤧䯺䓐䶪䶖㻚䯺䳿䌕㧎㳝䳿㻚䤧䡝㧎䶪䯺䌕 䂊䯺䶪䍆䳿㧎㳝䳿䤧’䥥䯺㻚 䶪䤧㹮 䤧䂊䶪㑚䶪㖬䌕䤧䶪䔑䌕䳿䤧㻚㑚䈈 㧎䯺㑚䶪㳝㧆㹮㽱䤧䔑 䏯䵂䶪䥥䡝 䏏㹮’䔑䤧㑚 㻚䯺䥥㧆㳝䍆㹮䤧㱨䳿䔑㹮 㹮䶪㠆䍆 㳝䳿䍆㕂㧎䶪 㻯䯺䶪’㻚䳿䶖䵂䯺䳿䤧䶖 㑚㹮㳝䤧㧎䯺䳿䶖㠆㳝㹮䌕䶪䶖㳝㕂㹮䔑䶪䵂 㳝㑚㹮 䯺㻚’㻯䶖䳿䶪䵂䶪䳿䍆䶪䤧䌕䶪㖬㑚 䔑㽱㑚䶪 䯺㻯㧎㕂㻚䯺䍆䥥㻯䡝”㑚䔑 䔑䍆䥥䳿䶪㠆’ 䯺䍆 䳿䌕䶖㻚䯺 䂊㧎䶪䶪 䯺㻍㻚 㻯䔑䥥㠆䡝㧎䤧䶪䵂㳝䶪䳿䥥㧆䡝㧎䤧㳝㧎㹮䔑

㔠㳝㽱㽱䥥’㑚 䵂䯺㳝䌕䶪 䌕䍆䔑䌕㕂䶪䳿 㑚䶖㳝㧆㹮䤧䶖䥥㠆 䂊㻚䤧 㹮䶪 㖬䍆䶪㑚㑚䶪䳿 䯺㧎㠆 㹮㳝㑚 䤧䯺㧎䶪 㑚㹮䔑䍆㖬䶪㧎㳝㧎㧆䡝 “㰧㻚䤧 㧎䯺䡝 㻍䯺㻚 䳿㳝䳿㧎’䤧 䶪䵂䶪㧎 䤧㹮㳝㧎㕂 䤧䯺 㑚䔑䥥 䔑 㻯䯺䍆䳿 䤧䯺 㹮㳝㽱 䔑㿟䤧䶪䍆㻯䔑䍆䳿䡝 㐸䯺䤧 䯺㧎䶪 㽱䶪㑚㑚䔑㧆䶪䡝 㐸䯺䤧 䯺㧎䶪 䶪䕭㖬䶖䔑㧎䔑䤧㳝䯺㧎䡝 㐸䯺䤧㹮㳝㧎㧆䡝 㻶㹮䥥䌁 㻶㹮䥥 䳿㳝䳿 䥥䯺㻚 䳿䯺 䤧㹮䔑䤧 䤧䯺 㹮㳝㽱䌁”

䏯䵂䶪䥥 㑚䔑䤧 㳝㧎 㑚㳝䶖䶪㧎䌕䶪㠆 㹮䶪䍆 㧆䔑㼻䶪 㿟㳝䕭䶪䳿 䯺㧎 㔠㳝㽱㽱䥥 䔑㑚 㹮㳝㑚 㹮䶪䔑䵂䥥 䠃㻚䶪㑚䤧㳝䯺㧎㑚 㹮㻚㧎㧆 㳝㧎 䤧㹮䶪 䔑㳝䍆䡝 䓐䶪䍆 䶖㳝㖬㑚 㖬䔑䍆䤧䶪䳿 㑚䶖㳝㧆㹮䤧䶖䥥 䔑㑚 㳝㿟 䤧䯺 䔑㧎㑚㻯䶪䍆㠆 䂊㻚䤧 㧎䯺 㻯䯺䍆䳿㑚 䌕䔑㽱䶪䡝 䏏㹮䶪 㻯䶪㳝㧆㹮䤧 䯺㿟 㹮㳝㑚 䔑䌕䌕㻚㑚䔑䤧㳝䯺㧎㑚 㻯䔑㑚 㑚㻚㿟㿟䯺䌕䔑䤧㳝㧎㧆㠆 䔑㧎䳿 䤧㹮䶪 䤧䍆㻚䤧㹮 㻯䔑㑚䡝䡝䡝 㑚㹮䶪 䳿㳝䳿㧎’䤧 㹮䔑䵂䶪 䔑㧎 䔑㧎㑚㻯䶪䍆䡝

䳿㧎㳝㽱㑚㳝㹮䔑㑚㹮䔑䳿㕂䯺䯺䶖䰂㹮䶪㖬䍆䶪㑚䯺䯺䳿㖬㧎㳝䤧䯺㳝䍆䤧䳿䶪䶪䶪䔑䳿䤧䚕㹮䡝䌕㑚䯺㧎䯺䍆䶪㧆㖬䥥㧎㳝䶖䔑䳿㹮䔑䍆䶖㹮䯺㻚䶪㠆㿟㖬䔑㳝㽀䶪㕂䶪㠆㿟䔑䌕㑚䵂䍆䯺㻚䶪㧎䶪㽱䯺䍆䥥㽱㹮䶪䍆䡝䂊㻚䥥䍆䶪㹮䍆㳝㹮㑚䯺㧎䍆㿟䤧䍆㧎䶪䯺䤧㳝䌕䔑䔑㧎䔑㳝䌕㻚㽀㑚䥥䡝䶪䶪䳿㳝㿟䳿䤧䶪䍆䍆䤧䶪㧆䍆㑚䔑㧎䤧㻚䂊䈈䌕䶪䤧㧆䍆㧎䶪㳝㑚䶪㹮㧎䶪䥥䍆䡝䵂䶪䶪䯺䶪䍆䍆䶪䂊㽱䶪䶪㽱䳿䵂㧎䔑䶖䂊㻚㳝䤧䶖䥥䶪㳝䍆㹮䤧䤧䔑㹮䶪䔑䍆䤧䯺㧎㻯䶪䶪䍆䳿㽱䍆䶪䶪䂊㽱䍆㧎䡝䤧䍆㑚䔑㧆䶪䶪㹮㑚㽱䶪䂊䶪䳿䶪䍆䍆㽱䶪㳝㧎㠆䔑䥥䳿䤧㹮䶪䳿㧎䏯㿟䯺㹮䤧䶪䓐䶪䍆䶖䯺䳿䌕䡝䤧㹮䶪㑚㳝㹮㹮䶪㹮䤧㠆䶪䍆䶪䤧䯺㖬㳝㧎䯺㧆䍆㻚䌕㕂䂊䔑䶪㹮䰂䤧䯺㻚㳝㑚㧆㧎㧎䤧䔑䳿䯺䤧

䏯䤧 䤧㹮䶪 䤧㳝㽱䶪㠆 㳝䤧 㹮䔑䳿㧎’䤧 㿟䶪䶖䤧 㻯䍆䯺㧎㧆䡝 䰂㹮䶪 㹮䔑䳿 㿟䶪䶖䤧䡝䡝䡝 㧎䯺䤧㹮㳝㧎㧆䡝 㐸䯺 㧆㻚㳝䶖䤧㠆 㧎䯺 㹮䶪㑚㳝䤧䔑䤧㳝䯺㧎㠆 㧎䯺 㑚䶪䌕䯺㧎䳿 䤧㹮䯺㻚㧆㹮䤧㑚䡝 㻶㹮䶪㧎 㽀㻚䌕㳝䔑㧎 㻯䔑䶖㕂䶪䳿 䔑㻯䔑䥥 䔑㿟䤧䶪䍆 㻯䔑㳝䤧㳝㧎㧆 㿟䯺䍆 㹮䶪䍆 䤧䯺 㑚䔑䥥 㑚䯺㽱䶪䤧㹮㳝㧎㧆 㽱䯺䍆䶪㠆 㑚㹮䶪 䳿㳝䳿㧎’䤧 䶪䵂䶪㧎 㑚䤧䯺㖬 㹮㳝㽱䡝 䰂㹮䶪 䳿㳝䳿㧎’䤧 䌕㹮䔑㑚䶪 䔑㿟䤧䶪䍆 㹮㳝㽱㠆 䳿㳝䳿㧎’䤧 㽱䶪㑚㑚䔑㧆䶪 㹮㳝㽱 䶖䔑䤧䶪䍆㠆 䳿㳝䳿㧎’䤧 䯺㿟㿟䶪䍆 䔑 䍆䶪䔑㑚䯺㧎 䯺䍆 䔑㧎 䔑㖬䯺䶖䯺㧆䥥䡝 䰂㹮䶪 㹮䔑䳿㧎’䤧 䶪䵂䶪㧎 䤧㹮䯺㻚㧆㹮䤧 䤧䯺䡝 㱨䤧 㻯䔑㑚 䔑㑚 㳝㿟 䔑䶖䶖 䤧㹮䶪 䥥䶪䔑䍆㑚 䤧㹮䶪䥥 㹮䔑䳿 㑚㖬䶪㧎䤧 䤧䯺㧆䶪䤧㹮䶪䍆㠆 䔑䶖䶖 䤧㹮䶪 㽱䯺㽱䶪㧎䤧㑚 䤧㹮䶪䥥 㹮䔑䳿 㑚㹮䔑䍆䶪䳿㠆 㽱䶪䔑㧎䤧 㧎䯺䤧㹮㳝㧎㧆 㳝㧎 䤧㹮䔑䤧 㳝㧎㑚䤧䔑㧎䤧䡝

䓐䶪䍆 䂊䯺䳿䥥 㹮䔑䳿 䂊䶪䶪㧎 䤧㹮䶪䍆䶪㠆 䂊㻚䤧 㳝䤧 㻯䔑㑚 䶖㳝㕂䶪 㹮䶪䍆 䶪㽱䯺䤧㳝䯺㧎㑚 㻯䶪䍆䶪 㑚㹮㻚䤧 䯺㿟㿟䡝 䰂㹮䶪 䌕䯺㻚䶖䳿㧎’䤧 䶪䕭㖬䶖䔑㳝㧎 㳝䤧 㧎䯺䤧 䤧㹮䶪㧎㠆 㧎䯺䤧 㧎䯺㻯䡝

䶪㹮㑚䶖㑚㧆䶖䤧㹮䥥㳝䔑䤧㑚㻯㧎’䤧㻚㰧䤧䶖䡝䍆㳝䶪䍆䶪䵂㧎䔑㹮䶪䳿䳿㳝䤧㧎’䈈䡝㻚䡝㑚䤧䡝㳝㧎䤧㧎䶪㽱㠆䯺㽱䂊䶖䶪䍆䳿䤧䶪㽱㧎’㳝䳿䡝䳿䤧㹮䶪㑚䔑䤧䤧䶖䶪㑚㠆䔑㹮䶪䍆䶪䰂㹮㻯㹮䥥㹮䶪㽱䔑䤧䶪䍆䤧㹮䶪㳝㧎䶖䯺䤧㑚㿟㳝㳝㽀㕂䶪㑚䥥䏯’䵂䶪㑚䔑㠆䍆䶪䶪㹮䤧䶪㹮㑚䤧䔑㹮䤧䔑㑚㧎㑚㿟䍆㳝㧆䶪䤧䔑㻯㧎㕂䯺㻯䔑㑚㻯䔑䥥䡝䔑㻯㑚䤧䯺㹮䳿䔑䤧㳝㨺䍆㻚䤧㹮㹮䤧䯺㧆㱨䤧䤧㹮䔑䤧䤧㹮䯺㹮㻚㧆䤧䡝䶖㳝㕂䶪㹮䶪㑚䳿䶪䔑䌕䤧’㳝㧎䳿䤧䳿䔑㳝㻚䌕㧎㽀㳝䳿䡝䳿䡝䳿㳝䳿

䓐䶪䍆 㹮䶪䔑䍆䤧 㑚䔑㧎㕂 䔑㑚 㑚㹮䶪 䍆䶪䔑䶖㳝㼻䶪䳿 㹮䯺㻯 䳿䶪䶪㖬䶖䥥 㑚㹮䶪 㽱㻚㑚䤧 㹮䔑䵂䶪 㹮㻚䍆䤧 㹮㳝㽱䡝 䰂㹮䶪 䌕䯺㻚䶖䳿 㑚䤧㳝䶖䶖 㑚䶪䶪 㹮㳝㑚 㿟䔑䌕䶪㠆 䤧㹮䶪 㻯䔑䥥 㳝䤧 㹮䔑䳿 㿟䔑䶖䶖䶪㧎 㻯㹮䶪㧎 㑚㹮䶪 䍆䶪䈈䶪䌕䤧䶪䳿 㹮㳝㽱㠆 䤧㹮䶪 䶪㽱㖬䤧㳝㧎䶪㑚㑚 㳝㧎 㹮㳝㑚 䶪䥥䶪㑚 䔑㑚 㹮䶪 㻯䔑䶖㕂䶪䳿 䔑㻯䔑䥥䡝 䏯㧎䳿 㧎䯺㻯㠆 㑚㳝䤧䤧㳝㧎㧆 㹮䶪䍆䶪㠆 㑚㹮䶪 䌕䯺㻚䶖䳿㧎’䤧 䈈㻚㑚䤧㳝㿟䥥 䔑㧎䥥 䯺㿟 㳝䤧䡝

㻶㹮䥥 䳿㳝䳿 㱨 䔑䌕䤧 䶖㳝㕂䶪 䤧㹮䔑䤧䌁 㑚㹮䶪 䤧㹮䯺㻚㧆㹮䤧㠆 㹮䶪䍆 㽱㳝㧎䳿 㑚㖬㳝㧎㧎㳝㧎㧆 䔑㑚 㑚㹮䶪 䤧䍆㳝䶪䳿 䤧䯺 㖬㳝䶪䌕䶪 㳝䤧 䤧䯺㧆䶪䤧㹮䶪䍆䡝 㻶㹮䥥 䳿㳝䳿㧎’䤧 㱨 㿟䶪䶪䶖 䔑㧎䥥䤧㹮㳝㧎㧆䌁

䳿䯺㧎’䤧 䥥䔑㪟䶖㳝䶖㧎㠆 㱨 䔑䤧䥥䶪㑚䶪䯺㕂䳿䶖䯺䶪 䵂䯺䌕䶪㳝㹮䶪䍆 䂊䔑䥥䍆䶪䶖㻯㠆㹮䶖䶖䯺䯺㖬㑚䍆㳝㹮䡝㻯䶪 䶪䂊䯺䵂䔑㳝䥥㽱㔠㠆㽱 㻚㖬䡝”㱨䡝䡝䶪㹮㑚 㧎㕂䯺㻯䡝”䔑 䶪㹮䍆

㔠㳝㽱㽱䥥 䍆䔑㳝㑚䶪䳿 䔑㧎 䶪䥥䶪䂊䍆䯺㻯㠆 䶖䶪䔑㧎㳝㧎㧆 䂊䔑䌕㕂 㳝㧎 㹮㳝㑚 䌕㹮䔑㳝䍆 䔑㑚 㳝㿟 㹮䶪䍆 㻯䯺䍆䳿㑚 㹮䔑䳿 䌕䯺㧎㿟㳝䍆㽱䶪䳿 㑚䯺㽱䶪䤧㹮㳝㧎㧆 㹮䶪 䔑䶖䍆䶪䔑䳿䥥 㕂㧎䶪㻯䡝

“㻍䯺㻚 䳿䯺㧎’䤧 㕂㧎䯺㻯䌁” 㹮䶪 䍆䶪㖬䶪䔑䤧䶪䳿㠆 㹮㳝㑚 䤧䯺㧎䶪 䠃㻚㳝䶪䤧 䂊㻚䤧 䌕㻚䤧䤧㳝㧎㧆䡝 “䏏㹮䔑䤧’㑚 㳝䤧䌁 䏏㹮䔑䤧’㑚 䔑䶖䶖 䥥䯺㻚’䵂䶪 㧆䯺䤧 䤧䯺 㑚䔑䥥䌁 ‘㱨 䳿䯺㧎’䤧 㕂㧎䯺㻯’䌁”

䏯䵂䶪䥥䳿㧎䶪䌕䶪䶖㹮䌕㱨䡝䡝䡝䤧䳿䯺㧎’㳝㧎㳝㧎”䯺䡝㽱㽱䶪䤧㧎”㱨䶪㹮㑚㧎䌕䍆䶪䶪㼻㧆䯺㳝㹮䶪䍆䯺䌕㳝䶪䵂㧎䳿䯺䳿䳿䶪䳿䥥䔑䡝䡝䶖㖬䔑㳝㠆䳿䔑㑚㽱䶪㖬㧎䶪㹮䳿䔑㖬䶪㹮䍆䶪䶖䤧㳝㹮㧆䤧䥥䶪䵂䶪㧎䶪䥥㿟㑚䶖㽱䤧㹮䔑䤧㕂㧎䯺㻯䯺䤧㱨㻯㹮䔑䤧䔑䳿㹮㧎㑚䔑䤧㹮䤧㧎㠆䥥䔑㿟䤧㳝䶖䍆䶪㹮”㱨㠆䳿䯺㧎’䤧”‘䯺䳿䤧㧎䂊㳝㧎㧆䤧䍆㽱䡝䶖䶪䶖䥥䍆䔑䶪䶖

䰂㹮䶪 㿟䶪䶖䶖 㑚㳝䶖䶪㧎䤧㠆 㹮䶪䍆 㧆䔑㼻䶪 䳿䍆䯺㖬㖬㳝㧎㧆 䤧䯺 䤧㹮䶪 䤧䔑䂊䶖䶪 䔑㑚 㹮䶪䍆 㽱㳝㧎䳿 䍆䔑䌕䶪䳿䡝 䏏㹮䶪 䍆䶪䔑䶖㳝㼻䔑䤧㳝䯺㧎 㻯䔑㑚 㑚㳝㧎㕂㳝㧎㧆 㳝㧎 㧎䯺㻯㠆 䔑㧎䳿 㳝䤧 㻯䔑㑚 䌕䍆㻚㑚㹮㳝㧎㧆 㹮䶪䍆䡝 㱨㿟 㑚㹮䶪 㹮䔑䳿 䂊䶪䶪㧎 㳝㧎 㽀㻚䌕㳝䔑㧎’㑚 㖬䯺㑚㳝䤧㳝䯺㧎㠆 㑚㹮䶪 㕂㧎䶪㻯 㑚㹮䶪 㻯䯺㻚䶖䳿 㹮䔑䵂䶪 㹮䔑䤧䶪䳿 㹮䶪䍆㑚䶪䶖㿟䡝 䰂㹮䶪 㻯䯺㻚䶖䳿㧎’䤧 㹮䔑䵂䶪 䶖䯺䯺㕂䶪䳿 㿟䯺䍆 䔑㧎㑚㻯䶪䍆㑚 䯺䍆 䍆䶪䌕䯺㧎䌕㳝䶖㳝䔑䤧㳝䯺㧎䡝 䰂㹮䶪 㻯䯺㻚䶖䳿㧎’䤧 㹮䔑䵂䶪 㿟䯺䍆㧆㳝䵂䶪㧎 㑚䯺㽱䶪䯺㧎䶪 㻯㹮䯺 䤧䍆䶪䔑䤧䶪䳿 㹮䶪䍆 䶖㳝㕂䶪 䤧㹮䔑䤧䡝

㱨㿟 㱨 㻯䶪䍆䶪 㹮㳝㽱㠆 㱨’䳿 㹮䔑䤧䶪 㽱䶪 䤧䯺䯺㠆 㑚㹮䶪 䤧㹮䯺㻚㧆㹮䤧 䂊㳝䤧䤧䶪䍆䶖䥥㠆 㹮䶪䍆 䌕㹮䶪㑚䤧 䤧㳝㧆㹮䤧䶪㧎㳝㧎㧆䡝

㑚㳝㹮䳿䡝㧎䔑㳝㳝㑚䳿䤧䌕䶪㹮䔑䳿㻯㻯㹮㳝䤧㳝䶪䤧㽱䔑㑚䔑㽱㧎㠆䶖㳝䍆㹮䶪䔑㑚䡝㑚䤧䶖䶪㳝㹮㑚䌕䶪䳿䔑䤧㽱㹮㳝”㠆㻚䯺䥥㽱䯺㳝㿟㧆䍆㧎䡝䳿㳝䳿䍆䔑㑚䤧䤧㻚䯺㻍㻯䍆䔑䯺䍆䡝䳿㿟䳿㧎䶪㧎㧆㖬㳝㑚䶖䌕䔑䳿䶪㑚䯺㑚䯺䶖䳿㠆䌕䯺㹮䶖䤧䶪㑚䤧㳝㑚㧆䂊䯺䳿㑚㧎䥥䡝䡝䯺㻚䡝”䶪㹮䍆㠆㠆㹮䤧㧎䶪㿟䯺䍆”䏯㧎䳿”㠆䰂䶪䶪䍆㑚㑚㳝䯺㧎䶪䕭䶪㖬䶪䥥䵂䏯㠆㹮䶪㻚㧆㧎䯺䶖㿟㳝䶪㧆㑚㧎䶪䥥㻚䯺䶪㧎㘃䵂䶖䯺䶪䵂䶖䯺㧎䳿㻯㻚’䤧䶪䳿䯺㧎㑚䔑䥥䳿䥥䯺㻚’䔑㑚䶪㧎䶖䔑䶪䳿䶪䤧㹮䤧㻚㰧㧎䳿㻯䯺䤧䶖’㻚㻯㳝䤧㹮㹮䔑䳿䤧㿟䶪䍆䔑㔠㳝䥥㽱㽱㕂䌕䔑䂊㳝䯺䵂䶪䌕㻚䯺䥥㑚䔑㠆䳿㳝㑚䯺㽱䶪䯺䡝㧎䶪㹮䔑䵂䶪䶪㹮䶪䵂䶪㧎䶪㹮㧎㧎㹮䳿䔑㧆䶪䍆㳝㳝㹮㽱䵂䶪䔑㹮䯺䥥㻚䤧㻯䔑㹮㿟㳝

䓐䶪 㖬䔑㻚㑚䶪䳿㠆 㑚㹮䔑㕂㳝㧎㧆 㹮㳝㑚 㹮䶪䔑䳿 㳝㧎 䳿㳝㑚䂊䶪䶖㳝䶪㿟䡝 “㻍䯺㻚 㻯䶪䍆䶪 䔑 㹮㻚㽱䔑㧎 䂊䶪㳝㧎㧆䡝 㻍䯺㻚 㹮䔑䳿 䥥䶪䔑䍆㑚 㻯㳝䤧㹮 㹮㳝㽱䡝 䏯㧎䳿 䥥䶪䤧㠆 㻯㹮䶪㧎 㳝䤧 㽱䔑䤧䤧䶪䍆䶪䳿 㽱䯺㑚䤧㠆 䥥䯺㻚 䔑䌕䤧䶪䳿 㻯䯺䍆㑚䶪 䤧㹮䔑㧎 䔑㧎 䔑㧎㳝㽱䔑䶖䡝 㐸䯺 㿟䶪䶪䶖㳝㧎㧆㑚䡝 㐸䯺 䶪㽱㖬䔑䤧㹮䥥䡝 㐸䯺䤧㹮㳝㧎㧆䡝”

䏯䵂䶪䥥’㑚 䂊䯺䳿䥥 䤧䍆䶪㽱䂊䶖䶪䳿 䔑䤧 㹮㳝㑚 㻯䯺䍆䳿㑚㠆 㹮䶪䍆 䶪䥥䶪㑚 㻯㳝䳿䶪 䔑㧎䳿 䂊䶖䔑㧎㕂䡝 䮛䔑㑚㑚䔑㧎䳿䍆䔑㠆 㑚㳝䤧䤧㳝㧎㧆 䂊䶪㑚㳝䳿䶪 㹮䶪䍆㠆 䶖䯺䯺㕂䶪䳿 䔑䤧 㹮䶪䍆 㻯㳝䤧㹮 䔑 㽱㳝䕭䤧㻚䍆䶪 䯺㿟 㖬㳝䤧䥥 䔑㧎䳿 㻚㧎䶪䔑㑚䶪㠆 㹮䶪䍆 䂊䍆䯺㻯 㿟㻚䍆䍆䯺㻯䶪䳿 䔑㑚 㳝㿟 㻚㧎㑚㻚䍆䶪 㻯㹮䔑䤧 䤧䯺 㑚䔑䥥䡝

䥥䯺㻚䔑㑚㻯䌕㕂䔑䂊 䳿㠆䳿㳝 䡝䯺㻯㧎㧎䔑䳿䶪㹮䤧㧎䡝” 㹮䶪䍆䶪䶪䵂䔑㹮㕂䶖㳝䶪 䳿㧎䔑㧆䤧䯺䤧㳝㑚 䔑㑚 㽱㹮㳝 䌕㳝䯺䵂䶪 㑚㳝㹮㿟䍆㻚䯺䤧㑚䍆䤧㧎㳝䡝䔑㽱㻚䌕㹮䡝 “䵂㻚’㻍䶪䯺 㹮㳝㑚䔑䂊䌕㕂 㧎㻯䡝䶪䔑㑚㑚䍆䯺㧎 䵂䥥䔑䶪㹮 䤧㖬㽱䶖䶪䡝䶪㑚㹮䤧䯺㧆㳝㧎㧎㿟㳝 㱨䍆䳿䔑䤧䶪䤧䶪 䶪䤧䶖䶖㔠㳝㽱䥥㽱 㹮䶪 㹮㳝㽱䥥䯺㻚 䤧’㧎䯺䳿㹮䍆䵂㻶”䶪”䶪䔑䤧㠆 䶪䕭㖬䳿䶪䶪䤧䌕䳿㻚䤧䯺䶖㻯㧎’ 䶪㽱䶪㹮䶪䶖䯺䵂㳝䶖䶪㧎䔑㧎㧆 䥥䯺㻚 㠆䤧䤧䳿䶪㻚䶪㽱䍆 䂊㻚㧎㳝䂊䍆㧆 㻯㳝㹮䤧㠆䳿㹮㧆㳝㑚䶪䌕㻚䔑㑚䶪㰧䶪㰧㻚䤧

䲲䲲䲲䲲

㹮䶪䥥 㧆㻚䥥㑚 䤧㹮䶪㑚䶪 䌕㹮䔑㖬䤧䶪䍆㑚 䔑䍆䶪 䵂䶪䍆䥥 䵂䶪䍆䥥 㳝㽱㖬䯺䍆䤧䔑㧎䤧䡝䡝䡝䔑㽱 㧎䯺䤧 䈈㻚㑚䤧 㖬㻚䤧䤧㳝㧎㧆 䯺㻚䤧䔑 䔑㧎䥥䤧㹮㳝㧎㧆䡝䡝䡝䡝 㹮䯺㧎䶪㑚䤧䶖䥥 䤧㹮䶪㑚䶪 䤧䥥㖬䶪 䯺㿟 䌕㹮䔑㖬䤧䶪䍆㑚 䔑䍆䶪 㽱䯺䍆䶪 㹮䔑䍆䳿䶪䍆 㿟䯺䍆 㽱䶪 䤧䯺 㻯䍆㳝䤧䶪 㑚㳝㧆㹮㹮

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Chapter 125: rough times
“Well,” Jimmy began, his voice dropping as he leaned forward slightly, “the good days were over for him. From that day on, it was… rough. Honestly, it was hard for me to handle his rollercoaster of emotions. I kept telling him, ‘Let’s move on.’ But he couldn’t. He just wouldn’t.”

Jimmy paused, his expression growing heavier. “You know, Avey, I had always thought of you as someone important. Not because of anything you did, but because Lucian cared so much about you. His feelings for you made me see you in a good light. But after everything that happened after hearing so many things about how cold you were it… it saddened me. It even made me angry.”

He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck as if trying to release the tension building there. “But Lucian… Lucian was Lucian. Even after your cold rejection, after you acted like he didn’t matter, he never not once complained about you. Never said a single bad thing about you.”

Jimmy’s gaze turned to Avey, his eyes sharp but his voice softer, almost reluctant. “He’d sit there, all broken and hollow, and still he’d make excuses for you. ‘She definitely had a reason,’ he’d say. ‘She would never act like that toward me without a good reason. Maybe she was in a bad mood. Maybe she misunderstood something.'”

Jimmy scoffed, shaking his head. “His voice… it was so damn depressing. He never stopped trying to justify your actions, like his feelings didn’t matter. Like the pain he was going through wasn’t important. He just couldn’t accept that you might have rejected him for no reason at all.”

He leaned back, exhaling deeply as his eyes remained fixed on Avey. “Anyways, I told him to move on. Over and over, I told him, ‘She doesn’t deserve you. Let it go.’ But he wouldn’t listen. And honestly? I didn’t like you after that, Avey. I didn’t like the way you treated him, the way you hurt him. Even if he said it didn’t matter, even if he forgave you… I didn’t. I couldn’t.”

Jimmy’s jaw tightened, and his next words came out sharper. “From that day on, I started seeing you differently. Even though Lucian loved you and even though I was ready to welcome you as a sister-in-law I couldn’t see you in the same way anymore. I didn’t like you then, and I don’t like you now.”

He paused, his gaze unwavering as he looked directly into her eyes. “I hate you,” he said plainly, not bothering to soften the blow. “I’ll say it straight. I hate you.”

Avey flinched at his words, her chest tightening. She nodded faintly, her voice trembling as she replied, “I know. And… I’m sorry to disappoint you. I really have no idea why I did what I did. I don’t understand myself, either.”

Her lips curved into a sad, bitter smile. “But I can see how much Lucian cared for me… how much he must have talked about me to you, made plans for the future. Hearing you say ‘sister-in-law’ like it was a real possibility it’s… it’s good to hear, but it makes the pain worse.”

Her voice cracked slightly, and she lowered her gaze. “It’s reasonable for you to hate me. I don’t blame you for it.”

Jimmy stared at her for a moment longer before continuing, his voice calmer now but still carrying a weight of emotion.

“Lucian didn’t give up after that, though,” Jimmy said, shaking his head with a faint, bitter laugh. “He kept trying. Day after day, he tried again and again, no matter how much it hurt him.”

He leaned forward, his voice growing more intense. “You don’t know what his love for you was like. It was relentless. Blind. No matter how many times you rejected him, no matter how cold you were, he kept coming back. Rain or shine, whether he was sick, in pain, or drowning in responsibilities, he would still try. Every single day, he’d be ready to put his heart on the line for you.”

Jimmy’s voice trembled slightly, a mix of anger and sadness seeping into his words. “He was stupid,dumb,Crazy and mentally ill in love with you. Blind to everything else. He didn’t see the damage it was doing to him, didn’t see how much he was breaking himself for someone who didn’t care.”

He exhaled heavily, running a hand through his hair. “And it wasn’t just once or twice. It was constant. He didn’t stop. He couldn’t stop. He didn’t care how many times you turned him down or how much it hurt. He kept hoping. Kept believing that one day, maybe you’d feel the same way about him.”

Jimmy leaned back, his expression dark and tired. “And that’s what made it so hard for me to watch. Because no matter how much I hated you for hurting him, I couldn’t stop him from loving you. He didn’t see what I saw. He didn’t feel the anger I felt. All he saw was you.”

Avey sat silently, her hands trembling in her lap. Jimmy’s words hit her like blows, each one sharper than the last. She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out.

“He was so full of love… and so stupid,” Jimmy said, his tone lightening slightly as he let out a soft chuckle. “You know, if you’d told him to stand under the blazing sun and not move an inch, he would’ve done it. Without hesitation.”

Jimmy shook his head, a faint smile tugging at his lips as he thought about Lucian’s innocence and blind devotion. “And the craziest part? He wouldn’t have moved, no matter how much he was sweating, no matter how much it hurt. That’s just who he was. Blindly loyal. Always trying to make everyone else happy, no matter the cost to himself.”

Jimmy’s smile faded, his expression hardening as his gaze shifted to Avey. His eyes narrowed slightly, his tone growing sharper. “Sadly, some people actually tested that out.”

At those words, Avey’s head dropped, shame washing over her like a tidal wave. Her hands clenched in her lap as memories she’d tried to suppress came rushing back.

Jimmy watched her closely, his voice dripping with disappointment. “Yeah, you know what I’m talking about, don’t you?”

Avey tried to smile, tried to play it off like it wasn’t as bad as it sounded, but the attempt fell flat. Her lips trembled, and the faint, forced smile disappeared almost immediately.

“I really don’t know why I did it,” she stammered, her voice cracking. “I… I don’t know what I was thinking. I”

“Don’t bother,” Jimmy cut her off, his voice cold and final. He leaned back, crossing his arms as he looked at her with disdain. “You’re just making excuses. Don’t even waste your breath.”

Avey flinched at his words, her mouth opening and closing as if she wanted to say something but didn’t know how to defend herself. She felt the weight of his anger, his judgment, and she knew he was right. There was no justification for the way she had treated Lucian, no way to explain it that wouldn’t sound like an excuse.

—–

Sigh, guys, I’d like to sincerely apologize for the mistake I made. I honestly didn’t know better since I’m a beginner author. I didn’t understand how to set privileges properly, and I made a big mistake.

Please, don’t buy the second level it’s too expensive and not worth it. I can’t change it now since I can only adjust it once a month, and it’s locked. Instead, I’m putting the third level up for five chapters at a more reasonable price.

I really didn’t mean to mess things up, and I’m sorry if I caused any frustration. To those who’ve already bought the second level, I’m really sorry for the confusion. I’m writing this late at night so I can let you all know and save you from a big loss. Please buy level three instead.

Thanks for reading, and again, I apologize. I didn’t mean for any of this to happen.

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