The study felt empty.
Mo Ying stood by the table, the food still warm but untouched. The smell filled the room, yet he felt no hunger. His eyes kept drifting back to the desk.
To the letters.
Time passed.
Then the door opened.
Soft footsteps entered.
San Na walked in.
She was dressed simply, her hair neatly tied. When she saw him, she stopped. Her eyes moved to the table, then to the desk. She saw the letters.
Her steps slowed.
"You called for me?" she asked quietly.
Mo Ying nodded once. "Sit."
She did.
Silence filled the room.
After a long moment, Mo Ying spoke. "Did you write those letters?"
San Na looked toward the desk. She did not deny it.
"Yes."
"Why didn't you send them?" he asked.
She lowered her eyes. "Because it wouldn't change anything."
He frowned slightly. "You don't know that."
She smiled faintly, but there was no warmth in it. "You were at war. You were fighting for the people. I didn't want to pull you back with my worries."
He had no answer.
