"Cheated?" Hearing that, Sabrina's eyes widened in disbelief. "You two were childhood sweethearts, grew up together, had such a deep relationship and he still cheated?"
"Who's the mistress? Is she a rich heiress or a stunning beauty? Is she one of those scheming, alluring and vicious femme fatales from TV dramas?" she asked exasperatedly.
None of those.
Aiden's mistress was a dark-skinned, thin and plain-looking flower seller.
By that time, Aiden had already achieved remarkable success in his career. He no longer chased fame or fortune. Instead, he poured his energy into personal hobbies.
He wasn't into stocks, fishing, or tea. But he suddenly developed an interest in flowers.
Imported, cheap, common, rare—Aiden collected them all, bringing them all to his little garden.
Among them, his favorite was the iris I gave him on his birthday.
"It was this flower that sparked my interest in flowers all over the world," he once said. "Such an unremarkable little seed, yet with human care, it can bloom into something so beautiful. The whole process is just fascinating."
He said he loved the flowers, but he loved the process of their blooming even more.