When the man returned home, Olivia was sitting on the bed, and she could smell the alcohol on him. It was already half past one in the morning.

Upon hearing the sound of the door closing, she set down the pen in her hand and got off the bed. She fetched his slippers, helped him take off his coat, steeped a cup of tea for him, and finally went to the bathroom to turn on the hot water.

When Olivia came out of the bathroom, she saw him pick up the notebook she had left on the bed and flip it open. It was her diary; she always wrote in it. She walked over, took the diary from his hands, and said, "The bathwater is ready. You should go and take a warm bath."

The moment he felt the absence of the diary in his hand, his brows furrowed slightly, seemingly displeased, but he went to the bathroom to bathe nonetheless.

After finishing his bath, he realized she had forgotten to fetch his bathrobe. Jackson came out of the bathroom, his upper body bare.

Under the orangish-yellow wall lamp, Olivia was still sitting on the bed, leaning against the wall and writing in her diary, wearing her petite, delicate glasses.

When she heard the noise, Olivia slowly raised her head. Her gaze shifted from the book in her hand to him standing in the doorway. The dim lighting softened his usually stern features. She blinked but said nothing, returning to her writing.

Jackson walked over, his bare body blocking most of the light that had been shining on the book, forcing her to look at him. He snatched the notebook and pen from her hands and casually tossed them onto the floor. Leaning over, his robust and tall figure cast a shadow over her. He casually grabbed protection from the drawer beside the bed.

Her pajamas were gently stripped off and thrown aside.

Olivia had anticipated this, knowing it would happen when he returned home after a month, smelling of alcohol. She neither felt lost nor resisted, obediently letting herself be pulled into Jackson's arms.

When his body pressed against hers, Olivia turned her head and pleaded, "Turn off the lights..."

But he denied her. "No."

Olivia felt somewhat breathless. Their last intimate moment as a couple had been a month ago. Even though she had mentally prepared herself, she still felt scared.

In the dim light, Olivia's body stiffened, accompanied by silent panic, trembling, and resistance.

Jackson pried open her lips with his tongue, silently asserting dominance. She dared not moan or even look at his face, only staring straight ahead at the two shadows on the wall. Their forms overlapped under the lamp, with the shadow on top undulating from time to time.

She didn't know how long it took, but eventually, Olivia closed her eyes. Her body, once rigid, went limp, exhausted.

All night, on the large bed, the two moved silently.

At seven in the morning, Olivia woke up and saw Jackson coming out of the bathroom, already dressed in his coat. He sat on the bed to put on his shoes and straightened his collar. Even though her memories of last night were somewhat muddled, combined with the soreness in her body, she could almost confirm it hadn’t been a dream.

She thought for a moment and asked, "Are you going to work?"

He grunted in affirmation.

Olivia glanced at him, hesitated for a while, and finally held back.

As he got up and walked towards the door, she hurriedly got off the bed and called out, "Jackson."

"Hmm?" He didn’t turn his head.

Olivia stared at his figure, her chest rising and falling. After a moment of wavering hesitation, she finally said, "Some of my close college classmates, who know I’m married, have mentioned wanting to have a meal with you."

In fact, her friends had brought it up several times over the past three months. There were a few occasions when she wanted to tell Jackson, hoping he could make time for an evening. But every morning, when she woke up and heard the hurried sound of him shutting the door, she, pretending to be asleep, gave up the idea.

"When?" he asked, turning his head.

Taken aback, Olivia hadn’t expected his response to be so straightforward, so she let out a sigh of relief. "They made plans for Sunday night."

"Mmh, but these are busy days. I’ll try my best," he said, leaving the apartment.

Olivia stood there for a while, then walked barefoot to the balcony, just in time to see the car downstairs driving away.

It was still early morning; the sky had just begun to brighten. The neighbors living nearby were either still asleep or just starting their morning routines. Olivia stood on the balcony for a while, then returned to the bedroom to start tidying up. After breakfast at the corner store downstairs, she headed off to work.