The night was quiet. Within the villa on the mountain.
Avery sat on the leather sofa in the living room alone. Her surroundings were empty and quiet.
After marrying for three years, the number of days she had lived with Blake could be counted on one hand. He sometimes spent a whole day with her on the eighth, but most of the time he looked through the financial statements while she sat beside him, holding a medical book. When he was at home, Avery would cook personally. Her cooking skills were not good, but he was never picky.
Avery pressed her hand to her forehead, her eyes shut, her expression showing pain. No matter how hard she racked her brains, their memories of each other were pitifully small. The only sweet time was not long after their marriage. That day, Blake drank some wine
