Dear Ex-wife Marry Me

Shirley was held tight in his embrace, frozen in the moment until she caught sight of Abner standing not too far off, her body stiffening instantly.

Abner, still with his backpack slung over his shoulders and his hair in disarray, looked as if he had just gotten back.

Shirley had spent the entire night at the hospital, and logically, Abner should have headed home to rest. Yet, there they were, bumping into each other at 4 a.m. beneath the dim streetlights of their neighborhood.

Without a second thought, Shirley pushed Mark away and strode towards Abner.

His lips were bruised, a purplish hue under the streetlights, and his arms bore multiple scars.

"Abner, what on earth happened?"

Abner's gaze, however, skimmed past her to Mark.

He saw them, clinging to each other. Was Shirley thinking of getting back together with Mark?Property © of NôvelDrama.Org.

A wave of panic surged through him. The pain he hadn't felt before now seemed to engulf him, making his eyes burn with the threat of tears.

Shirley, nearly frantic, grabbed his hand and started toward their house, but Mark chose that moment to speak up.

"Shirley, think it over. They both need you."

Shirley stopped in her tracks, saying nothing.

She was more concerned about what had happened to Abner.

Once back home, Abner remained silent as Shirley flicked on the lights, revealing his condition more clearly. "Take off your shirt."

Abner, still lost in the images of what he had just witnessed, turned his head away, pretending not to hear. Shirley stepped forward, pulling up his shirt herself. Seeing the bruises on his skin, her pupils dilated. These marks weren't fresh; they had turned purple, indicating they had been there for at least a week.

She had been so caught up with work that she hadn't noticed his late returns home, assuming he was buried in his studies. "Abner, what's going on? Did someone hit you? Why are they so severe? If you don't tell me now, I'm calling the cops." "Shirley, I fell."

"Fell? You expect me to believe that?"

She flipped his shirt up and pushed him down on the couch.

Abner felt uncomfortable and tried to pull his shirt down, but she snapped, "Don't move!"

She found some ointment for bruises and began gently pressing it into his wounds.

Whether it was the medicine or just Abner's imagination, the skin she touched felt increasingly warm, almost burning.

Eventually, his entire face was flushed with heat.

Last time, he had given Mrs. Davis two million dollars. Now, those men in black suits were being even more demanding, pushing him into contact sports.

Aside from his studies, he spent his days training with them. Perhaps because he had been used to hard labor since he was young, his reflexes and talents were quickly recognized, pleasing them greatly.

He had managed to scrape together another two million dollars for Mrs. Davis, leaving him with one million dollars still owing as his training intensified.

He couldn't let his academic performance slip, not wanting to disappoint Shirley.

But he was so tired, having not slept well in over a fortnight.

Suddenly, a warm drop fell onto his chest. Opening his tired eyes, he saw Shirley beside him, applying the medicinal liquor while tears dropped heavily onto his skin.

That spot felt as if it had caught fire.

Abner remained still, feeling the walls he had built around his heart crumble bit by bit, as if a voice was telling him clearly.

Oh, Abner, you're really done for.