[Fake prodigal son × good girl | marriage | sweet pet]
On the night of the wedding, the prodigal husband threw the wedding ring into the wine glass, hugged his new love and smiled at me: "Everyone has his own thing, understand?"
I kept to myself as my contractual wife, until I saw my male tutor wiping my sweat - he pressed me against the wall with red eyes, and his voice was hoarse and trembling: "Did I allow you to touch other men?"
I slowly wiped off the lipstick mark on the corner of his mouth: "Everyone is doing his own thing, what are you in a hurry for?"
The whole school thought the prodigal son was playing a trick on me. Until I found a yellowed photo on his phone - a seventeen-year-old him standing on the basketball court, with a crooked name embroidered on the chest of his school uniform.
He cornered me in the corner, his eyes red: "The day you handed me the water, were you laughing at my ugly name?"
I enlarged the photo, and my fingertips stopped on a small dark mark next to the embroidered words: "Did you prick your hand while sewing the name?"
He was stunned: "How do you know?"
"Because when you lowered your head that day, I was looking at you."
He pretended to be a prodigal for seven years, and I pretended not to know him for seven years.
From beginning to end in this marriage, only one person didn't know it was true.
