The Returning Ex

Sophia, however, didn’t notice the change in John. She continued minding her own business. Meanwhile, John suppressed the desire within him and pivoted, carrying Sophia’s luggage upstairs.

As he opened her room door, his eyes darted around the interior. He’d stayed in this room twice, and while that didn’t say much, he still remembered how the room used to be.

Now, however, everything had changed. One could tell from a single glance that it was a young maiden’s room since there was a gigantic stuffed toy on the bed, taking up half the space, and the bedsheets had been changed to pink ones. Even the floor mat by the bed was different.

John stared for a long time before he placed the luggage in the room and left. When he returned downstairs, Sophia had already gotten up and was sitting cross-legged on the yoga mat with her cell phone in hand, looking at something or other. As he descended the stairs, he asked, “Have you eaten?”

Sophia didn’t look at him, but while her eyes remained fixed on her cell phone, she answered, “I’m not hungry.” That means she hasn’t eaten.

When John had gotten downstairs, he went to the kitchen and took a quick look around. There’s nothing much here. Then, he went over to the refrigerator and peered in. There’s plenty of raw ingredients in there, but regretfully, I don’t know how to cook a single thing.

scrolling her cell phone for a while, Sophia stood up. “Have you

in affirmation and closed the refrigerator door. “I went back to Constance

going to bed.” John frowned slightly but said nothing

entering her room, Sophia locked the door after a moment’s contemplation. Then, she opened her suitcase and took out everything in there, only

looks stern in the photo on the divorce certificate, which is very much like

before leaving the

still downstairs, so Sophia went to his room and placed the documents on the bedside table. Returning to her room, she then took a shower. Subsequently, she

a delight. I no longer need to worry whether he hurt his stomach imbibing while entertaining clients, nor do I need to bother about cooking supper when he comes home late, much less concern myself with thoughts of whether there are ladies around when he’s entertaining clients and lose sleep over the possibility of him losing control and straying. All this has nothing to do with me

she’d truly gotten over it, for she didn’t have any dreams that night, sleeping soundly

by hunger pangs. She hadn’t eaten anything last night, so she woke up starving early in the morning. Sitting on the bed, she sighed. Can’t this stomach

got busy in the kitchen. She initially wanted to just cook some noodles for herself, but as she mulled it over while