At midnight, Hazel was still avake. She opened her eyes secretly and looked at the person beside her.
He had fallen asleep and held her gently in his arms.
He was really good-looking, with perfect and deep facial features, elegant and extraordinary temperament. He was so excellent and noble that he should have a perfect wife to match him. A defiled woman like her would really become a shadow in his perfect world, a failure.
She didn't want him to be criticized and ridiculed because of her, nor did she want to be hated and despised by him.
She buried her head, tears streaming down from her eyes and wetting his collar. He moved a little, seeming to be scalded by her tears, and slowly opened his eyes.
She turned her head in a hurry, pretending to be asleep, so that he wouldn't see her. But it was too late, and his sharp eyes had already caught her tearful eyes.
"What's wrong? Are you not feeling well?" He sat up and looked at her nervously.
