The roses that were supposed to have been thrown into the trash bin were surprisingly blooming on the coffee table, looking fresh and radiant.
So they weren't thrown away after all.
Why?
"Xiao, the assistant, took the initiative. Just let it be," Ye Sihan's deep voice rang out.
Tang Yu came back to her senses, "Understood."
No matter the reason, it wouldn't be what Tang Yu thought—an acceptance of love.
Ye Sihan was a cold-hearted and emotionless person; he could strategize and control everything, but he didn't know what love was.
And he didn't need it.
The presence of this bouquet of roses seemed more like a declaration of her personal intentions.
Anyway, this opportunity was hard-earned, and she wouldn't give up easily.
After lunch, Tang Yu stayed in the office.
Because Ye Sihan didn't allow her to leave.
Tang Yu thought about it; in a few hours, they would go to pick up the children together, so it made sense to avoid going back and forth.
