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

teased, his eyes crinkling

just grinned, darted ahead a few steps, then spun around with a

"Hurry up, Fory!"

"I'm coming."

sun dipped low in the sky, Forrest watched her standing in the glowing orange light—her laughter bright as a flower, her smile gentle

caught up to her,

the market to pick up groceries, then headed to

home-cooked dishes-most importantly, a generous plate of crispy hashbrowns and potato cakes, Mila's favorites. The meal was simple, but it couldn't have tasted

wrap-up and prep

walked back to campus

ways, Mila strolled toward her dorm, humming a tune. From a distance, she heard a commotion up ahead, and curiosity drew

it, a short, plump middle-aged woman in a bright red winter coat was sitting on the

want to see

home, hasn't visited in years! What kind of place is this, teaching kids to

me back my daughter or

get out

come out, I'll hang myself right here at your school! You heartless child, abandoning your own parents. I curse you-you'll never

on the ground, rolling in the

around, laughing and pointing-some even pulled out their phones

someone had doused her in ice water. The chill seeped all

She'd thought she'd forgotten.

her like a commodity, eager to carve her up and sell her piece by piece, drinking her