Ethan Bennett returned home, but Ryan Mitchell had not come back yet. It was already late at night, and the house was cold and deserted, with cold pots and cold stoves, and it was indescribably cold.
Ethan Bennett suddenly sat down on the thick Armani sofa in the living room, his fingers deeply inserted into his hair, the veins on the back of his hands bulged, it was very scary. His brain was aching slightly under the heavy pressure, but he needed this pain to keep his consciousness clear.
Over the past year, although he still didn't go home often, he had gotten used to the fact that no matter how late it was, there would be lights, food, and steaming tea waiting for him as soon as he got home. Ryan Mitchell would always come home earlier than him and would always wait patiently for him to come home. If he stayed out too late, he would just make a phone call and Ryan Mitchell would immediately drive over to pick him up.
He got used to it and never felt it was precious.
He never considered how long this kind of life would last, but he always thought that once it ended, it would be because he called it quits.
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