Jiayin walked to the door, raised her hand, just about to push it open, when she saw through the crack that Ye Wuge was pressing a waitress beneath him.
She clenched her teeth, staring inside with unwavering intensity, the hand she had raised now curling tightly into a fist.
A surge of anger flared up in her chest. She wanted to push the door open, to demand why he was doing this.
Just days ago, he had confessed to her with such deep affection, telling her that he loved her, that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her, to get married, to have children together.
Why was he now seeking another woman?
Was he truly so uncontrollable, even during a wedding he was only attending as a groomsman, upon seeing a mere waitress?
The anger in her heart slowly transformed into bleak sorrow and disappointment. She should have known all along—his so-called love was nothing more than an impulsive desire to hold onto something he couldn't bear to lose.
