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Six years 3

Six years 3

Our boss is notorious for being a penny-pincher. 

The department dinner was arranged at a small and messy outdoor food stall. 

By the time the dinner finally ended, my exposed neck, calves, and wrists were covered in red, itchy mosquito bites. 

Enduring the physical discomfort, I sent several drunk colleagues home one by one. 

When I finally pushed open our front door, it was already 10 PM. 

It was drizzling outside. The sensor light in the entryway lit up, revealing an empty living 

room-Adrian wasn’t home again. 

I took out my phone to check the time, just about to give him a call when suddenly the door behind me was pushed open. 

Adrian appeared in the doorway, soaking wet from head to toe. 

Water droplets fell from his messy hair tips, forming small puddles on the floor. 

His usually crisp white shirt clung to his body, outlining his toned waistline, while his suit jacket and tie were nowhere to be seen. 

He no longer had the dignity and composure of his usual self, looking more like a 

miserable, broken stray dog. 

After a few seconds of eye contact, Adrian spoke first, his tone eerily calm. 

“You’re back?” 

I nodded, quickly pulling him inside: “Where have you been? How did you get so wet? Come in quickly…” 

Adrian moved mechanically, his gaze slowly sweeping over my eyebrows, eyes, nose, and lips. 

Finally, it settled on my neck. 

Then, he suddenly froze. 

I caught a whiff of a familiar greasy smell on him, very similar to the scent from the food stall where we had dinner tonight. 

“Adrian, did you go to pick me up? I’m so sorry, you couldn’t find me because I was…” 

“I don’t want to know!” 

He abruptly cut me off, his voice intense and sharp, frantically avoiding my gaze: 

“I mean, I didn’t go to pick you up. I just… just went for a walk.” 

I awkwardly licked the corner of my mouth: “I see. Well, Adrian, tonight I…” 

Adrian’s eyelashes trembled violently: “Enough, I’m… I’m tired! I need to take a shower, 

need to shower…” 

With that, he hurriedly rushed into the bathroom, as if escaping from something, his 

retreating figure frantic and panicked. 

Six years

Six years

Score 9.9
Status: Ongoing Type:
Six years

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