"Don't say—"
Song Song blushed, reaching out to cover the man's mouth, wishing a hole would open up for her to crawl into, "What should we do now?"
The man helplessly took over, and in no time the hair was pulled out, "Hmm, it's done now—"
A million alpacas sprinted through Song Song's mind, her eyes ablaze, "Jerk, you did it on purpose just now."
Feigning dismay as if he were just as helpless, why was such a bad man her husband?
"Ha, someone who can't even handle a few strands of hair doesn't have the right to complain about me." With that, he tossed a remark and strode towards the study door.
Song Song stared blankly at his departing back, lost in thought, suddenly remembering something. Four years ago, when she left, she had tossed him a divorce agreement. She wondered if he had signed it?
If he had, it meant they no longer had any relationship.
