At ten o'clock at night, Han Yi changed her clothes, put on a trench coat, and was ready to leave.
Suddenly, the bedroom door opened, and Gong Tingxuan, with his hands in his suit pants pockets, was staring at her with a pair of cold eyes.
This surprised her.
In the past, he was never home at this time.
Once, she had severe stomach pain in the middle of the night, writhing in agony, yet he was not by her side. Being with a man who didn't love her was like living on the edge of a cliff.
His indifference was enough to cast you down into the eighteenth level of Hell, never to rise again.
Upon reflection, since their engagement last year and through the marriage, in the span of over a year, he seemed to have never cared about her.
Usually, when he looked at her, his gaze held nothing but coldness and deep disdain…
The day after they married, he moved all his personal items into the rest area of the study, and his wardrobe and other belongings were strictly off-limits to her.