“I'm sure that you won't be interested in a man with a child. You can’t possibly become someone’s stepmother,” Bu Ziang was utterly contemptuous about the child’s father.
Cen Yao did not continue dwelling on this topic, as she merely asked, “Have you signed the divorce papers?”
When she brought it up, a hint of pain swept across Bu Ziang’s face. He pursed his thin lips tightly, as he gazed at her without immediately speaking. Seeing his silence, Cen Yao thought that he had wanted to go back on his word, so she frowned and appeared slightly frosty, “You’d promised that we could, after I’d gone for that dinner party with you.”
“I indeed promised to give it careful consideration,” Bu Ziang’s voice sounded a little sorrowful, “But did you know? Just a week ago, I had no intention of signing the divorce papers. Even if we had wasted ten years together, I’d wanted to waste it with you.”
“So, this week, did you change your mind?” Cen Yao continued staring fixedly at him.
“Yes. This week, I changed my mind.” With a hoarse voice, endless solitude emanated through him.