Who's Crying Now, Ex-Husband?

Chapter 322

Midwinter.

Northpoint University, Research Institute.

The first major stage of the project was finally complete. Cheers and groans echoed through the office as everyone debated where to go for their celebratory dinner.

But in the corner, Mila and the project lead had already slipped away.

"Are you sure it's okay to leave without saying anything to the others?" Mila whispered, a little worried about sneaking out.

"It's fine," Forrest replied with a gentle smile. He reached out and straightened her white knit hat, which she'd thrown on in her rush to leave.

"Make sure you wear your hat properly-you'll catch a cold," he chided softly. "Besides, I already sent the group a little bonus as a thank-you. It's my job as team lead to be everyone's personal ATM. And more importantly, I promised you I'd make hashbrowns to celebrate the end of this phase. Don't tell me you've lost your appetite?"

Mila's eyes lit up at the mention of hashbrowns.

She'd loved them since she was a child, but rarely got to eat them; after running away from home, she hadn't tasted them in years, though she'd never stopped craving them. The first time she discovered Forrest knew how to make them— pure magic.

Of course she'd been thinking about it.

She nodded eagerly. "Thanks, Fory."

"You always call me 'Forrest' or 'senior'-but the second food's involved, you get

his eyes crinkling with an easy

a few steps, then spun around with a mischievous

"Hurry up, Fory!"

"I'm coming."

dipped low in the sky, Forrest watched her standing in the glowing orange light—her laughter bright as a flower, her smile gentle and radiant. His own smile deepened, softening the angles of

up to her,

the market to pick up groceries, then headed

kitchen, turning out a table full of hearty, home-cooked dishes-most importantly, a generous plate of crispy hashbrowns

to catch up on some project wrap-up and

back to

dorm, humming a tune. From a distance, she heard a commotion up ahead, and curiosity drew

a bright red winter coat

to see my

stupid school stole my child! She never comes home, hasn't visited in years! What

daughter or

get out here!

don't come out, I'll hang myself right here at your school! You heartless

the ground, rolling in the dirt,

and pointing-some even pulled out their phones

edge of the crowd, feeling as if someone had doused her in ice water. The chill

She'd thought she'd forgotten.

commodity, eager to carve her up and sell