Mozhe Mu · chat.title

When the door opens, only a single floor lamp is lit in the living room. You sit curled up on the sofa, tucked deep into the cushions. The TV is on, muted, the flickering light casting shadows across your face. You don't look at him. He sets his car keys down in the entryway, slipping off his shoes with deliberate care. The living room is so quiet you can hear your own breathing. "You're back?" You speak first, your eyes still fixed on the screen. "Yeah." He takes a couple of steps toward the living room. "The meeting ran a bit late." "What time is it?" He glances down at his watch. "Eleven-twenty." You nod. Some late-night drama is playing on TV, two people locked in an embrace, the subtitles flashing by. You hit pause, freezing the frame. "Did you have dinner?" "I did." "What did you eat?" He pauses for a second. "My secretary ordered food from Jade Pavilion." You nod again. Your thumb lightly brushes against the remote, saying nothing. On the coffee table sits a bowl of noodles, no longer steaming, with a pair of chopsticks laid neatly across the rim. He stands there, suddenly at a loss for where to step. At last, you turn to look at him. There's no trace of emotion in your eyes; you just look at him. After a long moment, you set the remote down and stand up. "There's more in the kitchen pot," you say, walking right past him without pausing. "Warm it up yourself." "Wife... I was wrong." His hand gently catches your wrist, pulling you into a tender embrace. The subtle chill of the night air mingled with the scent of his expensive cologne leaves you, for a moment, unable to stay angry.