The message was not replied to.
A long string of messages, symbolizing the moment a woman truly crumbles, were drowned out. I'm afraid the other party saw them, but casually ignored them, or perhaps he just curled his lips in mockery of the loser on the other side of the screen, enjoying the show.
As expected.
Homewrecker, bitch, lowlife—no one would willingly accept such belittlement.
Qi Sui's tone was definitely not good, but she had already saved him some face.
If she hadn't seen the ambiguous, half-hearted messages in the chat records between him and her husband, she might have thought it was just Qian Jin's infatuation.
But no—
Absolutely not.
Xiang Yu, in a sweet and gentle tone, complained to Qian Jin about hard work and busy family matters, saying he had no time to eat with him, and even complained that her identity as a wife was getting in the way of their flirtation and dates.
Qi Sui felt a chill run down her spine.
And this chill wasn't from cold or fear, but from disgust and nausea. Every time she thought of those intimate chat records, those twisted words repeatedly magnified and shrank in her mind, eroding her heart over and over.
What was even harder for her to accept than the fact that her bedmate didn't love her was that he would use such words to cater to him— belittling a woman who had given him her true feelings.
She dragged her exhausted body home.
The large, empty living room was a house she had bought with her savings, the last dignity left to her by her deceased parents. Throwing her bag carelessly onto the shoe cabinet at the entrance, Qi Sui bent over. The cold side of her waist sent waves of pain that made her grit her teeth, and her head went numb.
She had only taken one day off today; tomorrow she had to go to work as usual.
Completely different from Qian Jin's glamorous job, although Qi Sui worked at the same company as her husband, it wasn't an important position. Her reason for choosing this position was simple.
She often made lunch for two and delivered it to his department during the lunch break. Qian Jin didn't want to carry a lunchbox to work; he seemed to think such a thing would damage his image.
She breathed heavily.
She couldn't stand up, nor could she squat down.
She just stood there bent over, her fingers white as she hooked onto the coat rack by the door, preventing herself from falling awkwardly.
Her pretty face turned pale from the low temperature. Her vacant eyes wandered, only to see the elegant wedding photo on the wall. In it, she wore a happy smile, and the man behind her wrapped his arm around her waist, his hand reaching forward to hold the beautiful bouquet with her, symbolizing pure and innocent love.
The bitter fragrance of coffee lingered in her throat.
Qi Sui hated drinking coffee, especially the various roasted, burnt aromas. So she never ate foods with similar flavors, like coffee or smoked meat.
Was it to torture herself?
She drank coffee today.
She had promised her parents she would be happy forever. Was it her fault?
Was it her fault for not finding happiness, for not getting her husband's love?
Because she wasn't a man?
She lost her strength.
Qi Sui suddenly crouched down, her waist making a faint sound of bone friction. She hugged herself tightly, unwilling to look at any part of this home anymore, and unwilling to see that face again.
Her phone vibrated in her bag, as if someone was messaging her.
She couldn't be bothered to look.
She didn't even want to open her bag or stand up; she just wanted to crouch there until the end of time.
The phone stopped vibrating.
Qi Sui hugged herself in the pitch-dark room.
As if she were the only person left in the world.
Her phone vibrated again.
Then another.
So annoying.
So annoying.
Annoying to death.
She lifted her pale face, her eyes red-rimmed, unwilling to admit that she was crying over such disgusting things.
Staggering to her feet, she opened her handbag, and the phone screen lit up.
The contact named "Xiang" had replied to her:
One minute ago
[?]
Just now
[Are you okay?]
[Wrong person?]
Was he playing dumb?