Summary
I sent my husband 539 messages in seven days. He answered 32. Obviously, he didn’t love me anymore. My sister had a different diagnosis: I needed a job. One busy art team, endless revisions, and a new gossip buddy later, I finally understood why my workaholic husband was always exhausted. I stopped demanding kisses, forgot our calls, and cheerfully offered him more time away on business. I thought I was becoming the considerate, independent wife he’d wanted. So why was Pei Jin suddenly asking where I’d been, who I was smiling at, and whether I still loved him?