I transmigrated into a tragic romance novel.
As a die-hard fan of angsty novels, I thumped my chest and told the System, “Give me three days. I guarantee I’ll finish the mission.”
Three days later, my husband took a concubine. I wept loud enough to shake the heavens and begged him not to marry his beloved moonlight.
His face darkened and his eyes turned red. “You’re the one who forced me to marry her. If I don’t, you’ll divorce me!”
Three months later, my husband tugged at my sleeve, blushing shyly. “The lake water is cold in spring. Could we wait until summer to jump in?”
Wait, buddy, what are you doing? Don’t stop me!
