I politely nodded to Phoebe, gesturing for her to move aside. But instead of letting go, her brows furrowed even deeper as she gripped my wrist tightly. "Hans, you weren't like this before."
Before?
Did she mean after marriage, when I treated her with genuine affection, promoted her to Vice President, handed over all my high-level authority and confidential files to her? Or when I gradually told her all my weaknesses and sore spots?
We once spent a loving night wrapped in each other's warmth, looking forward to having an adorable baby someday.
At that time, I always thought I'd be the best father in the world. Alas, those days were now gone forever.
Later, Jose walked upstairs in his leather shoes.
Before Phoebe could pull me into her arms, he interlocked his fingers with hers. "Phoebe, why don't you drive us there? You've been home these days, you must be bored."
Phoebe nodded and I instinctively gave up the front passenger seat.
As the scenery outside the window changed, my heart suddenly clenched. This road … wasn't it the way to the cemetery?
Before the car even came to a full stop, I yanked the door open and rushed out.