Yan Jiu was so angry he felt like his lungs would explode. He looked at the torn household register in his hand, threw it on the coffee table, and turned to leave.
Soon, only Xie Qinghuan was left in the room, and peace returned.
She walked to the window, watching the man leaving in a huff, and the corners of her lips curled into a slight smile.
She reached out and gently touched her belly, a glimmer of tenderness appearing in her eyes.
...
The next day, early in the morning.
Xie Qinghuan was still not fully awake when she heard a pounding on the door.
She turned over and buried her head under the blanket, intending to ignore it, her brows tightly furrowed.
But the noise outside the door didn't let up, instead growing louder.
Xie Qinghuan, a bit overwhelmed, got up and looked at the clock on the wall. It was only half-past five.
She doesn't even wake up until half-past six to get ready for work.
