7
I rushed into the parking garage through the rain, suppressing the displeasure in my
heart as I sat in the car.
Messages from my best friend popped up one after another, talking about the seven-year itch, about marriages of convenience, stinging my eyes until they watered.
I angrily sent messages to Adrian.
[Adrian, if it really doesn’t work out, let’s just get divorced.]
[To be honest, do you even love me at all? If you love me, please tell me loudly; if you don’t love me, then there’s no need to continue this marriage.]
[Let’s both cut our losses early, don’t waste any more of my time, you’re even hindering me from finding my young stud.]
After letting out these harsh words.
I hurriedly deleted our conversation, tossing my phone aside carelessly.
So I didn’t see that due to poor signal, only the first and third messages were sent out of
the three.
Time ticked by minute by minute.
I waited in the car for a full twenty minutes, but there was no reply from Adrian.
I was completely disheartened, enduring the dull pain in my chest as I instructed my assistant to draft a divorce agreement and mail it to our home.
