What unfolded before my eyes was all the agony my sister had suffered in the past three years after her marriage. In the beginning, she narrated her longings for her husband and revealed her collapse and shattering in the end. The man she regarded as a hero on her social account was actually a devil.
I stared at Grace's belly in a daze and touched it, only to feel a penetrating cold.
At first, I thought she conceived his child, my little nephew, but it turned out to be the incarnation of her suffering.
That night, with the help of Grace's memo, I met her nominal husband for the first time.
He was the devil who dragged my sister into hell.
He was holding a woman's waist, holding up a glass of wine, showing off his recent achievements. He commented without hesitation on his toy's lack of durability and finally sneered. "A lady from an aristocratic family must be much more durable than ordinary women."
After he finished speaking, the whole place burst into laughter and started to jokingly ask him, "Mr. Thompson, do you want to hunt another chick for fun tonight?"