Arnold Simmons smiled, lowering his head to press against her warm cheek, "I'm just worried that one day you won't want me."
She wrapped her arms around him, patting his back as if comforting a child, "That won't happen, you belong to me, how could I ever not want you."
Arnold closed his eyes, gently leaning on the girl's frail shoulders, slightly tightening his grip, "You should remember what you've said."
I belong to you.
You can never stop wanting me.
"Of course," she nodded, caressing Arnold's head and whispering in his ear, "Arnold, it's really just a common cold."
"Mm."
His voice was low, slightly husky.
Hannah opened her eyes, looking at an oil painting hanging on the distant wall.
A casual painting of roses blooming under the sunlight.
Full of life and vigor.
Just like… it had reached the most beautiful moment of the entire blooming season.
After pausing her gaze for a few seconds, Hannah closed her eyes, comfortably nestling in Arnold's embrace.