The Wrong Woman

Nathan's breath remained heavy as he grasped Mila's arm before turning to face her. His gaze was deep and he said softly, "Wanda, can we talk?" Mila stared straight ahead. She said sarcastically with an indifferent tone, "You're swamped with work, and I won't waste your time or disturb you. "So your devoted little assistant won't think that I, as a capricious and whimsical lady, am hindering you from attending to your important matters." He took a deep breath and suppressed the dull ache in his heart. He said, word by word, "We're married, do you have to treat me like this?"

Mila replied, "I didn't lose my memory, so there's no need for you to remind me."

The use of "you" in her response seemed respectful, but it was obvious to put a distance between them.

Nathan's eyes slightly reddened when he gazed at her indifferent expression. He felt his heart was being torn apart. This painful sensation had tortured him for over a month.

For the past month, they lived under the same roof. But Mila had avoided him and not answered his calls or replied to his messages. Even when forced to face her, her attitude was colder than winter frost. Nathan refused to let go of her hand.

They remained at an impasse.

Fenna rushed over and said gently, "Nate, since she's okay now, let's go. There's a lot of work for you to handle."

Nathan ignored her.

"Let go, I'm busy too. I don't have

Nathan's expression became gloomy.

Mila's hand and walked

forward. Although she looked displeased, she didn't have the authority to

was too hard,

a fast pace. He forcefully pulled her

bang as the door was

loud noise filled with all his discontent. Mila was startled and her

Mila to the edge of the bed and then

around, he sat on the edge of the

forehead. He lowered his head, closed his eyes, and took a

pressure emanating from him. The whole room felt as cold

moments after entering the room, neither of them spoke.