She waits for him to come home every time he's off tour. She stands on the balcony of her apartment, a cup of hot tea warming her hands as much as viewing him get out of the car warms her heart. She waits, and waits for him to knock on her door, but he never does. "I think I'm in love with you," I murmur. "I don't even know you," he replies - breaking my heart in the process. ❝It hurt to simply look at him, but even more than that, it hurt knowing that his chest would never ache when looking at me.❞ -K.O.