The hospital’s fluorescent lights cast a cold glow over Shen Luo, who had yet to wake up.
His face was pale, and Ming Shao suddenly recalled how it felt to lift Shen Luo in his arms.
Too light, almost fragile—how could someone be so thin?
Ming Shao clenched his hand, and the cold light fell on his fingertips.
His fist tightened, and the light vanished, leaving him with nothing but emptiness.
A sudden wave of panic swept over him. Shen Luo hadn’t woken up, and an unsettling sense of dread began to spread.
There were no evergreen trees outside the hospital, only ginkgo leaves covering the ground, with just a couple of leaves clinging to the branches, trembling in the autumn wind.
Respect? Dignity?
Ming Shao murmured the words Shen Luo had spoken.
It didn’t seem like Shen Luo was just throwing a tantrum; it felt like he genuinely didn’t want to go home with him.
But if not home, then where? Ming Shao thought for a moment and then remembered Shen Luo’s assistant, the one who had been with him.
A sour, stifling sensation filled his chest. The image of Shen Luo walking away with that person had opened some strange valve in his mind. The tangled knot in his heart twisted and turned, forming a massive net that trapped Ming Shao inside.
The house had gone a week without being tidied up, not because no one was available, but because the housekeeper had been sent away by Ming Shao every time she tried to come.
Shen Luo wasn’t the type to leave things lying around, but that night, in his hurry to leave, he had left a note on the bedroom dresser, a knocked-over tissue box on the coffee table, and his slippers askew by the shoe cabinet.
It wasn’t neat, nor was it spotless.
Yet Ming Shao had refused to let anyone touch anything.
People should be responsible for their actions, so he needed to bring Shen Luo back to put everything in order.
Of course, if Shen Luo was willing to return with him, Ming Shao could help—he could even clean the house with Shen Luo.
Though his job was busy, and it seemed irrational to waste precious work time just to clean up with his marriage partner.
But he could take a day off if necessary.
Shen Luo used to wait for him to come home, and although he hadn’t been particularly interested in Betas—
Ming Shao paused, feeling that the word wasn’t quite right.
The Alpha didn’t dwell on it, skipping over the thought and continuing his mental planning. If Shen Luo resumed waiting for him at home, Ming Shao could adjust his schedule to accommodate him.
But not all the time, because their marriage was just a contract, and they weren’t that close.
So, when would Shen Luo come back? Ming Shao’s gaze drifted from the fluttering ginkgo leaves outside the window to Shen Luo’s left hand, resting outside the blanket.
Shen Luo’s fingers were long and slender, pale—he would probably look good with a ring on.
But theirs was a marriage of convenience, and there were no rings.
Ming Shao had always thought that rings were unnecessary between them, like all those other “preparations” Shen Luo had once made.
Shen Luo had once given him a pair of rings, but where were they now? Ming Shao tried to remember but couldn’t. He had tried one on once, and it had made Shen Luo very happy.
But he had quickly stopped wearing it and had put it away somewhere without much thought.
Later, after he’d said several times that rings were unnecessary, Shen Luo had stopped wearing his too.
Ming Shao remembered hearing a saying a long time ago: rings are meant to bind two hearts together.
Two people connected by a pair of metal rings, symbolizing that their hearts belonged to each other and that they could no longer love anyone else. Ming Shao had always thought that idea was absurd—how could someone’s feelings be so easily locked down?
Especially between an Alpha and a Beta, with no pheromonal bond.
He had thought Shen Luo was childish.
But now, as he looked at Shen Luo’s bare ring finger, Ming Shao felt a sudden surge of unease.
Just as Ming Shao was lost in thought, Shen Luo’s fingers twitched.
The pain had lessened considerably. Shen Luo slowly opened his eyes, his gaze meeting Ming Shao’s.
Ming Shao stood up, somewhat clumsily trying to help Shen Luo sit up.
Shen Luo instinctively tried to pull away, even shrinking back, his eyes wary as they met Ming Shao’s. The painful memory of being dragged into the car was still fresh, and Shen Luo hadn’t fully recovered.
“…I…I won’t touch you. I’m sorry, I was wrong before,” Ming Shao apologized, recalling how he had acted out of anger.
Shen Luo didn’t respond, not even looking at Ming Shao. Instead, he turned his head to the window, and as he moved, the pendant under his white shirt slipped out, reflecting the light from the fluorescent lamp.
It caught Ming Shao’s eye, but before he could get a good look, Shen Luo tucked it back inside his collar.
“The doctor said you should rest for another couple of days, and then I’ll take you home. If you trust me, I can help you with your work—but just this once—”
“I’m not going back.” Shen Luo interrupted Ming Shao, his voice firm. “Do you understand those four words?”
“You still have things that need to be put away. The place is a mess, and you need to go home and clean up. You have to take responsibility for the mess you made a week ago—”
“Enough!” Shen Luo couldn’t hold back any longer. “I said I’m not going back.”
“But your things are still scattered around. There’s so much stuff everywhere that you left in a mess.” Ming Shao stubbornly repeated himself, his gaze fixed on Shen Luo.
“Throw them out. I’ll call the housekeeper to take care of it, and I’ll cover the cost, okay?” Shen Luo turned his back to Ming Shao, clenching his fists under the blanket, his nails digging into his palms. “Ming Shao, I don’t want to go back.”
“I want a divorce.”
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