little angel chasing his wife

This is the fourth month of my marriage.

The morning air was slightly cold, I opened my eyes, and now I no longer check to see if there is anyone beside me, his words are always unbelievable.

After getting up, he went to his room. There was no one there. It seemed that breakfast was still the same.

Maybe one last try?

I drank the hot milk for breakfast and decided to wait until I went to the market to buy something.

After I bought it, I cleaned the house first, because it is usually only me, this quiet room is easy to accumulate dust, and it needs to be cleaned every three days, otherwise the dust will float down when the door is opened.

But that's okay, at least I have something to do.

What I am going to make today is duck soup. I have stewed it for a long time, and it tastes very fragrant after opening it.

I was about to plate it when I heard the door open.

He came back earlier today than usual, and I suddenly felt that there was still hope for everything. I went up to meet him in an apron, and reached out to pick up the coat he took off.

He looked up and saw me, retracted his hand a bit, and then handed it to me.

I'm used to it.

"Have you eaten?" I asked him, his face was a little tired, and there were shadows under his eye sockets.

"En." He replied quickly.

"I made soup," I went back to scoop up a bowl of soup and handed it to him, "you can try it and see how it tastes."

He lowered his head to take the bowl of soup, took a sip, and suddenly coughed, as if he had choked on it. I was about to go up and pat him on the back when I saw him take out a handkerchief and cover his mouth.

It's not the first time I've seen him like this.

The first time, the second time... I could have assumed he was literally choking, but now, I'm pretty sure he was just trying to spit that mouthful of soup away.

The next thing he does is hand me the bowl back and say, "It tastes good."

The bowl of soup was handed to me, and I heard him say, "It tastes good, but don't make it in the future, it's very hard work."

Does it taste good?

I took a big sip from the bowl, then walked towards the kitchen counter under his shocked eyes, reached out to pour out the soup in the bowl, threw the bowl in, and there was a loud noise, "It doesn't taste good at all."

Yes, not at all.

Because you don't like it.

Maybe you just hate me.

"These too," I took off the lid of the saucepan, and put the whole saucepan upside down in the sink, the heat was rushing out, "It's all rubbish."

"What are you doing?" Someone grabbed my arm. He hadn't touched me for a long time. Even the strength and voice were unfamiliar. I turned around and saw him looking at the mess in the sink with disbelief.

I looked at him, and suddenly felt pain, a sense of powerlessness spread from my heart, my elbows became sore, and I withdrew my hand with a wry smile.

"Sorry, I'm not in a good mood today, so I'm going back to my room first."

I don't want to hate him.

But I could feel that I was losing control of myself.

This should have been my marriage, my happiness.

But since we registered our marriage, we slept separately, and we rarely saw each other after that. We should be the closest people, but why are we worse than strangers.

At least, he wouldn't be so wary of a stranger.

When I saw him for the first time, I thought he was the most perfect person in the world, with vibrant emerald eyes, a neat uniform, and a smile brighter than the sun when greeting people.

If I stay with this person, will I also become cheerful?

I just looked forward to it, but suppressed my expectations, and lived as usual until I heard from my brother that he was going to get married.

I didn't feel anything, but I heard my brother say it was just the price he paid for his freedom, and even the bride was appointed by our side.

So I said, let me come, I will be his bride.

At that time, I was ready, because this is a marriage without love, and he is a person who doesn't like to be imprisoned, so he will definitely reject me.

So I softened myself through being a wife, getting close to him, and cheering up after being hurt by him. I just hope that one day he can like me, and I just want to stay by his side.

In this way, I have been enduring his defensive and disgusting attitude until now, and finally I am a little powerless.

This time I didn’t sleep well, but I got up early the next day, had breakfast and lunch alone, waited for a while after the dinner was cooked, and ate my share when the meal was cold, and dumped his share .

I fell down on the sofa, and suddenly I felt a little sleepy. The part of the exhaustion that didn't dissipate last night hit me, and I fell asleep quickly.

I dreamed about when I registered my marriage with him.

He came with his friends. The girl in the red scarf kept looking at me very unfriendlyly, but I put on a long skirt that I was not used to at that time, and walked carefully beside him. Fill in the name on the paper, the person behind the desk took the information, handed over a small book shortly after, and wished us a happy wedding with a smile.

He didn't respond, so I took it.It was a very ordinary little book. On the first page, our names were lined up side by side, with a black seal stamped on it, and a strange feeling surged from the bottom of my heart.

I looked up and gave him a gentle smile, but his brow furrowed.

"Where's the ring?" My brother was beside me, he smiled softly, but his eyes were a little dark, "You always need a ring when you get married."

"Oh," he replied, lowered his head, took out a small box from his pocket and pressed it on my hand, "Here you are."

The style of the ring is very ordinary, just a little flower carved on the body of the sterling silver ring, I heard my brother sneered, I knew he was dissatisfied, but I didn't care, I tried it on, it was a bit big.

"I don't know your size." He looked at my hand, still frowning, "I asked Mikasa to try it on for me."

"It's okay," I put the ring away, "it can be used as a decoration in the room."

That ring was indeed placed in the room afterwards, my room, our room was close together, but we were not as close as they were.

"Don't come to me at night," he talked to me while holding the door frame, "I'm not at home during the day, I'm very busy with work."

"Well, okay," I replied, trying to be considerate, "Are you thirsty? My tea is okay."

"No." He answered quickly, and the door closed immediately.

With a click, I opened my eyes and saw the closed door.

I sat up, the quilt slipped off my body, my mind was confused for a while after waking up, and then I hugged the quilt and giggled.

Is he worried that I will catch a cold?

My hard work still pays off, I thought so, my heart jumped up again, the previous gloomy mood just disappeared, and I felt that I still had hope.

Maybe after a while, he will be willing to eat what I make, and then he will spend more time with me?

Just thinking about it like this opened my heart.

everything will be fine.

I want to try some new dishes. There are still many uncooked recipes that Ymir sent me. The dish I want to make has a special ingredient, which is not available in the nearby market. I decided to go a little farther to the other side. Go shopping in the market.

Along the way, the birds were singing and the flowers were fragrant, and the weather in early spring even seemed to be green, which made me think of him.

His surname means a hunter, which is in line with his character of longing for freedom and adventurousness. The survey corps he joined is now very popular among civilians, and even he himself is called a human hero.

And I can still call my neighbor my husband when talking to him, which is very fulfilling no matter how you think about it.

After shopping around the market, I finally bought what I wanted.

The bright red plant is called a tomato. It was discovered during a foreign survey and then introduced. It has a unique taste and is said to have a good beauty effect on women.

I haven't eaten it, but I just read that the recipe says that cooking soup can have unexpected effects.

I bought a few, filled half a basket with it, and carried it back down the path.

In front is the Central Avenue. I remember that the survey corps where he works is also very close to here. I wonder if it is possible to meet him.

Thinking about it this way, when my vision escaped from the narrow alley, I saw him. He was with a girl in a red scarf. The two of them were facing a document, as if they were discussing something.

Isn't that Mikasa?

I wanted to cross the middle road to say hello to him, but a strong wind suddenly lifted my long hair and the hem of my skirt. I quickly reached out to hold down the skirt, and the tomatoes in the basket rolled out because of the bump.

I looked at the red fruits on the ground with some annoyance, and looked up to see Mikasa trying to fix the red scarf that was blown by the wind with his hands. He brushed his forehead hair, put the folder under his arm, and reached out to help her Take care of your scarf.

My eyesight is very good, it can be said that it is much better than ordinary people. I clearly saw his fingers running through Mikasa's black hair, taking off the red scarf and wrapping it around her again. The expressions of the two of them It's all natural, like it's been done countless times.

His eyes were even a little helpless, but his movements were very considerate, and he didn't stop until he helped the girl put away the end of the scarf.

Then he glanced at me inadvertently, and when he saw me, he froze for a moment, wrinkled his eyebrows, and strode towards me.

Only then did I realize how embarrassed I was now, so I bent down and lowered my head to pick up the tomatoes on the ground. I picked up three, and then stretched out my other hand to help me pick up the ones that were a little further away. He put the tomatoes on me. In the basket she was carrying, her wheat-colored fingers had no fat, and the pads of her fingers had transparent thick calluses under the sunlight.

"I'm sorry," I straightened up and hugged the basket to my chest, and gave him an apologetic smile, "I interrupted your work."

He still looked at me with a frown, and I realized that I hadn't seen his smile since we got married.

Not even the slightest bit of ridicule, he just frowned at me impatiently or looked at me tentatively.

He opened his mouth, and I said "I still have something to do" before he left.

I held up the hem of my skirt, walked as soon as I saw the road, and finally came to an alley, and there was a dead end in front of me, and I stood in the alley panting, only to realize that I had run a long way.

The surroundings were quiet, and his hand helping the girl arrange the scarf flashed in front of my eyes, and I knelt down covering my head.

Just now, when I saw him carefully arranging the scarf for the girl, and watching his fingertips run through the girl's black hair, I suddenly had an impulse.

I suddenly wanted to kill that girl, and I even thought about that girl's terrified face when I pulled the trigger with my finger, and thought of the bullet passing through her chest ruthlessly, and the distorted pleasure spread in my heart.

Before that, I thought I still had hope, and that was because I was his legal wife and there were no other women by his side to accompany him, so I felt so.

Just now the thought shattered, the fragments embedded in my heart, and the pain made me realize a fact.

Come to your senses, Eve, he doesn't love you at all, because he'll never treat you with that much respect.