"True love is like ghosts, which everyone talks about and few have seen."
- Francois de La Rochefoucauld
When they stop treating her like glass, like she's about to break at any given moment, they seem to forget that Cho can still feel.
They talk of how young she is, how she hadn't truly been in love with Cedric.
"It was only a few months. You were just infatuated, you know."
"I don't think you really know what love is."
"First loves are rarely real love, dear."
And she takes it all with a forced smile, pretending their words don't hurt her.
It becomes easier, slowly but surely. Cho knows that it had been love, that she is one of the lucky few to know what such a thing truly is.