His voice seemed to continue outside, unashamedly indifferent to her, the supposed lawful wife.
Unwilling to leave, she stayed in the bathtub, listening.
How ironic.
Suddenly, her stomach growled, reminding Zoe that she hadn't eaten all day, and her stomach still felt vaguely uncomfortable.
The water had cooled, yet she didn't want to get out, to leave.
After a few more minutes, the noise outside finally ceased.
She finally emerged from the near-cold bathwater and slowly dressed in her pajamas.
Evan, presumably having finished his call, lay sideways on the bed, engrossed in his phone, not sparing her a glance.
Zoe glanced at him and walked straight out of the bedroom.
This heartless person.
Suddenly, she regretted holding onto her resentment every day. If he didn't come home for dinner, why did she need to throw away the food?
No food, no dishes.
Zoe rubbed her still-uncomfortable stomach and lethargically rummaged through the fridge for something to eat.
Thankfully, there were frozen pasta she had bought a few days ago when she had no appetite.
She boiled water and leaned on the sofa, chin in hand, waiting.
Suddenly, she realized something was amiss.
Right, her phone, still in her bag.
Zoe retrieved her phone from the other end of the sofa, unlocked it, and scanned through.
Her messaging software was empty, save for advertisement messages.
She smiled wryly, indifferently setting it aside and standing up.
The water was boiling, bubbling vigorously.
She dropped the frozen pasta in and returned to the sofa, idly scrolling through Weibo.
Suddenly, a headline caught her eye.
"Our child at seven, my husband who cheats, slaps me for the mistress, should I divorce?"
Her lashes quivered, and she uncontrollably clicked in. This person described her married life vividly.
"It started out very happily, my husband treated me well, but at some point, he changed, started staying out all night, and later I found lipstick stains on his shirt..."
Each word seemed to be written with tears.
Comments below were mostly condemning her husband.
A few suggested that divorce would wrong the child, advocating compromise for the child's sake, or the possibility of having a good talk with him.
Having a good talk with him?
Zoe's eyelid twitched, followed by a furrow of her pretty brow.
The pasta in the kitchen were likely ready. She served them, carried them to the living room, and ate while continuing to read.
She studied each comment carefully.
The pasta were fragrant, but to her, they tasted like wax.
After a long while, she finished the bowl, set down her phone to clean up, and returned to the sofa to continue reading.
Until 3:30 AM, she read through all 7,325 comments, expressionless, not missing a single word.
Zoe wore only her pajamas, and the night was chilly. Her limbs were icy, numb beyond sensation.
She paid no heed, calmly setting down her phone, turning off the screen, switching off the lights, and slowly walking towards the bedroom.
Evan was already asleep.
The moonlight tonight was beautiful, streaming through the open curtains, bathing the room in a silvery glow.
She didn't turn on the lights, relying on the faint moonlight to guide her steps towards the bed.
The man's features were clear, his lips tightly pressed together.
Zoe stood by the bed, staring at his face, studying this familiar visage.
When did he change?
Honestly, she wasn't sure.
He truly loved her once, so how, how could he change so quickly?
Zoe stood there, immobile, like a statue.
