The landlady, a widow living in the house after losing her husband, had always been someone who looked out for me, a college student. During days when I was too busy to even eat properly, her home-cooked meals and warm care made me gradually fall for her. One night, during a heavy downpour, she came to my room drenched. Her soft skin showed through her soaked blouse, and though I whispered to myself, "I shouldn't look," she gently smiled and whispered, "It's okay to look, you know?" That single sentence became the start of a deeper connection between us. In the quiet room of the boarding house, our feelings slowly began to unfold.