What did he have to do to get her to be okay, like she used to be? This bastard woman, he shouldn't have cared about her feelings.
"If you don't want to wash, then don't do it. Don't cry!" He impatiently shouted. Ignoring the wet clothes and the foam on his hands, he angrily opened the door and went out.
He was angry? This made her inexplicably angrier, but also more sad. How could she not know that he suddenly felt more pity for her? This pity, would he like it? Would it be love?
She didn't dare to think about it, nor could she think about it.
For the past two years, her body's obsession and her sacrifice for him had determined that there was no way they didn't have any feelings for each other.
She was so cautious that she longed for him to fall in love with her and for them to be able to enter marriage. How could she remain indifferent to his disappointment when she pretended to love him for so long?