The Chinese believed that if one's right eye twitched, it was an omen of bad luck.
Lu Jiaxin had never been particularly superstitious, but at that moment, she found herself thinking that the saying was uncomfortably accurate.
The car parked outside her house was unmistakable.
She paused at the doorway, fingers still curled around her bag strap, and took a slow breath. It was not anger that rose in her chest, nor even resentment. It was a deep, draining tiredness, the kind that came from knowing a situation was inevitable and feeling powerless to change it.
Helplessness, more than anything else, exhausted her.
Xu Minghao stepped out of the car when he saw her.
