On the streets of City A, the traffic flowed endlessly.
I’ve been sitting in a café nad "Serendipity" for two hours now, in the corner by the wall, facing the direction of the counter where a young girl in a sky-blue apron is busily brewing various drinks.
She’s about 1.6 ters tall, weighs probably no more than 90 pounds, white and slender, and loves to smile. Her thick, black hair is tied in a high ponytail, and her crescent-moon eyes are contagiously joyful when she smiles.
"Ma’am, would you like a refill?" she ca over and asked with a dazzling smile.
I was quite embarrassed, having just been captivated by the young girl. Fortunately, I am a woman myself, or else I might have been mistaken for a pervert or creep.
"Sure, another black coffee," I replied with a polite smile, my voice calm.
Soon, the girl brought another cup of bitter black coffee. She didn’t leave right away but hesitated for a mont before ddling, "Ma’am, you’ve already had two cups of black coffee. Although it’s invigorating, too much is harmful. Maybe... save so for next ti?"
She was kind and very outgoing, her voice crisp like wind chis, pleasant with a tinkling sound.
I glanced at the black coffee on the table, picked up my bag, and stood up, "Alright, let’s settle the bill."
The girl was happy that I took her advice. She quickly ran to settle the bill and finally told , "Ma’am, your total cos to 87 yuan today. Will that be cash or mobile paynt?"
After silently settling the bill, I left the café in quick strides.
"Madam," Lane greeted respectfully as I erged, nodding while holding the car door open for .
"Let’s go ho," I instructed him with a gentle smile.
The car started smoothly, and I closed my eyes to rest in the back seat, my mind continually revisiting the young girl from the café, the face so radiantly youthful.
Was it her? The girl for whom Henry Preston a year later would not hesitate to break away from the family, paying a huge price to divorce .
I didn’t expect that the first thing after being reborn would be to find her current workplace, observing her like a voyeur.
I was too curious—what kind of girl had taken away the man I had loved for ten years?
In the previous life, I never even t her, only discovering a na and a few photos. Henry protected her like she was a rare treasure. I was utterly defeated, yet my opponent never once showed her face.
Young, beautiful, pure, kind, cheerful... all these wonderful descriptors suited that girl perfectly.
Her only disadvantage was having no family background, creating a vast difference from Henry’s status.
Lane suddenly spoke up, "Madam, today is your wedding anniversary with Mr. Preston."
I opened my eyes slowly, montarily disoriented.
Counting it up, it’s been five years since I married Henry. Every wedding anniversary, I spend the entire day preparing a candlelight dinner and gifts.
This year, I’m 27, and he’s 29.
"I know." I rubbed my slightly aching temples, "No need to remind ."
Perhaps Lane noticed that I’m different from previous years, so he reminded .
But why was it always making the effort? Why did I have to love that man? In my previous life’s final monts, I pondered this question. For Henry, I ended up with a ruined family and a tragic ending.
Lost in thought, the car stopped at the entrance of the ho I shared with Henry, a wedding gift from both our parents, a luxury villa spanning over a thousand square ters.
To my surprise, Henry’s car was also parked at the entrance; he was ho.
My emotions were complex. Having died once, upon rebirth, what expression is appropriate to show when eting the culprit again?
I thought I would hate Henry, who for another woman, pushed his wife of five years to a dead end, also striking hard against my parents who treated him so well. My family suffered a complete defeat under his hands.
But upon truly seeing him again, I found that my hatred wasn’t as intense; there was more of a sense of release.
In the previous life, Henry gave a chance, proposing a peaceful divorce, offering a portion of The Preston Group shares as compensation, enough for to squander for a lifeti, but I was unwilling. I couldn’t gain any love from him in ten years, while another woman enthralled him within just a year, turning him against the world.
So I tried every possible thod to win him back, gradually moving towards a complete break, a face-off, a fight to the death.
Now, since none of this has happened yet, instead of hatred, I wish to change that self-destructive outco.
"What are you standing there for?" Henry was sitting in the living room, casually crossed his long legs, the cigarette in his fingers already burnt out. He skillfully extinguished it in the ashtray, then glanced at with the sa indifferent look.
On our wedding day, Henry openly stated that we were rely in a cooperative relationship, long-term roommates, and he had no feelings for .
"Nothing, just didn’t expect you to be ho." I bent down to change into slippers, a pair in Hers’ elephant gray, with a simple design and steady color; apart from comfort, there seed little else to admire.
I recalled the blue-aproned girl in the café, a red flower smiley pinned on her apron, which no one else had.
In contrast, all my clothes were expensive and monotonous, unchanging simplicity, unchanging dullness.
I suddenly disliked these slippers, tossed them aside, and walked barefoot into the living room.
Henry noticed my bare feet approaching, slightly frowning with a hint of surprise in his eyes, "Not wearing shoes?"
"Yeah, if I don’t feel like it, I won’t wear them." I sat down opposite him, responding plainly.
"Quite a surprise, what’s got you stirred up?" Henry surprisingly laughed, lightly asking in a rarely cheerful tone.
A reaction to your future true love, I thought.
I looked down at my own pale feet; too thin, they looked sowhat gaunt.
Azure was different. Though she was slim, her skin was tight and elastic, unlike my purely skin-and-bone appearance.
Five years of a lonely marriage left my body with many problems, having no interest in eating, thus growing thinner until resembling the White Witch.
"Henry."
"Hmm?" Henry was looking at his phone, not even raising his head.
He wore a black shirt and trousers, of superb texture, his long figure and perfect head-to-body ratio lending him a striking handsoness, combined with a smooth face shape and delicate, deep-set features, making him the dream of millions of girls.
I withdrew my gaze from my feet, fixating on the man across, my voice a bit hoarse, "Let’s get a divorce."
As soon as I finished speaking, I heard Henry’s sneer.
He casually tossed his phone onto the sofa, looking at with a familiar, cold gaze, asking, "Zoe Hathaway, what trick are you playing again?"
Reviews
All reviews (0)