"If it really affects your marriage prospects, I'll help you explain."
Watching his retreating figure, his words echoed in her ears. Finally, she silently bowed her head to eat the pickles, silently finishing the breakfast that belonged to her.
He made a round to the office and indeed brought her a notebook, pointing to a folder named "Exploration of Minimally Invasive Neurosurgery," asking her to research its contents.
"If your head doesn't hurt, take a look, but if it hurts, you must rest. Also, I will tell everyone in the department that you are sick and resting here, so you don't have to worry about gossip." With these instructions, he left.
She sat at the desk, his notebook in front of her, her heart inexplicably racing.
To her, each person's notebook is a private world; she never touched anyone else's notebook, not even during her marriage to him—this was her first time.
She laughed at herself for being nervous.
