Hearing this, my expression twitched, and I sneered, “It’s you who didn’t want me first, Alex. Don’t you
I used to adore his eyes. Those watery, mesmerizing eyes looked so much like Hank’s.
But now, every time I locked eyes with him, I felt disgusted!
remember?”
Alex looked as though he had been severely wounded, his expression faltering, his lips pale, and he seemed dazed.
I didn’t spare him another glance. I turned to Hank and coldly said, “Take your son away. Don’t appear in front of m
Hank looked a bit stunned, his face slightly cracking with shock.
Yet, with his immense pride, he wasn’t deterred.
Today’s parent–child activity was a test of familiarity.
Though I didn’t want to be on the same team as Hank, the rules of the game couldn’t be changed.
In the first round, Alex and Hank were tasked with answering questions about my preferences.
The game began quickly.
The host asked, “What is Adrienne’s favorite color?”
Without hesitation, they both answered, “Black.”
“Correct.”
I shifted my gaze away, my expression unchanged as I muttered, “That’s wrong.”
Black was Hank’s favorite color, not mine.
find it repulsive”
When we chose the decor for the house, I remained silent for a long time, eventually giving up on my favorite color, orange, and telling him, “I like black.”
An incorrect answer led to incorrect results.
The game continued, and Hank frequently turned his head to look at me.
He seemed smug, believing that he knew me well and that I would be moved by his answer.
But I didn’t like black, didn’t like buffalo wings, didn’t like the sea, and didn’t like staying home as a full–time housewife.
They all answered wrong.
If this had been done before, I might have been touched because they remembered my preferences, even if it was just pretending.
