After three years of marriage, Lu Chenzhou always called her by the same name - Lin Zhiyi.
I thought he couldn't tell the difference. Later I found out that he didn't want to tell the difference.
The terms in the agreement were memorized: sleeping in separate rooms, not interfering in private life, and acting in public. I did a good job, so good that he forgot that the substitute would also hurt.
On the day Bai Yueguang returned to China, there were a lot of hot searches. I stood outside the crowd and watched him walk across half the banquet hall towards her - I had never seen that look.
That night, for the first time, I didn't wait for him to come home.
The divorce agreement was signed, and I only packed my own luggage - the box I brought three years ago. I took Cuihua (the pothos I raised) with me, but I didn't take any of the jewelry he gave me.
Lu Chenzhou probably thought I was just having a temper.
He didn't know that I heard him call "Zhiyi" ninety-seven times in his dream - I counted them all.
At the ninety-eighth time, I stopped counting.
Later, he knelt in front of me and asked with red eyes: "Why can't we start over?"
I said, "Because no one should live in another person's shadow."
"Neither can I."
