The question floated in the air for some time, left nothing but the sound of the car machine.
"Maybe," she finally answered, "maybe because I still have feelings for him and I thought he still has feelings for me. Because the wound is still fresh. And I hope that he would appreciate me as much as I appreciate him!" and she burst into tears.
The other girl tried to pat her as she drove down the road. "I hate being weak," she added as she sobbed.
"I'm not trying to be cliche here, but what doesn't kill you will make you stronger," replied the other girl.
"Or simply will make you a stranger," and they laughed. She thought about being strong, and about God. She wiped her tears and smiled. That's good enough. That's good enough.
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