Chapter 13

Proofreader/Editor: Mochiusagi

According to his schedule, the Childhood Sweetheart will soon participate in the promotion of the movie and join in some interviews and a few variety shows. I calculated when he would conduct his interview as well as how long his travel time would be and arranged several reporters to block him.

Although this was thought up on a whim.

I also tried to get the Film Emperor and the Childhood Sweetheart to meet again but the difficulty in making this happen was obviously a little bit high. After all, I currently couldn’t get a hold of the Film Emperor’s schedule, so I had no choice but to give up on that plan.

My husband looked tired when he came home that day, and there was a very obvious slap mark on his face. But it unexpectedly wasn’t made by the Childhood Sweetheart.

Judging from the size of the palm, it probably wasn’t the Childhood Sweetheart. I figured that the person who slapped my husband was about 1.85 meters. By process of elimination, it may be the Film Emperor, his older brother A, or some other person I don’t know.

But I think it’s probably A.

I went to get a warm towel and applied it on his face. I even squeezed out a few drops of tears, pretending to be concerned, and asked him: “Does it hurt?”

My husband shook his head and answered: “It’s nothing.”

He looked like he didn’t want to explain what happened, so I didn’t ask. There’s only so many kinds of excuses anyway.

He then sat down to eat. I put the dish with the drug on the left-hand side next to him. I observed that he was particularly fond of eating the dish from that position, perhaps because of its convenience. Moreover, that position was also convenient for me to give him those dishes to show my concern for him.

Meanwhile, my husband still wore the same unchanged expression. Maybe it was because of the anger paralysing his mind that he practically consumed the entire dish.

As customary, it was now my turn to wash the dishes.

As I was washing the dishes, I heard my husband’s footsteps come from the door. He hugged me from behind, softly blew into my ear and asked: “Do you want to do it tonight?”

Do it in your dreams, ba. For a split second, it occurred to me that my mysophobia wouldn’t allow me to endure it even if it’s just one night.

“Sorry,” I refused. “I have to write tonight.”

“Okay.” He appeared as if he was somewhat disappointed.

Afterwards, I heard him answer the phone. He seems to have run out. I put the bowl down and went to the living room to check on my locator. As I expected, he didn’t go to the Childhood Sweetheart’s place.

I guess that prediction I previously had about the circumstances of their fight was true.

Update: 2/4

Feel free to support this struggling uni student on kofi! Bonus chapter goal almost reached!