Dear Ex-wife Marry Me

"Philip, don't be mad, okay?"

Phil had no clue what he'd done wrong this time. He had always aimed to please the professor, and

when she was happy, so was Philip. Had he messed up again?

He was at a loss. Panic began to set in, the icy grip of the machinery he feared he'd be thrown back

into seemed all too close.

"Philip."

The voice was grating to him, and in an instant, Philip grabbed Phil's hand tightly, his tone tinged with

rare sulk. He never snapped at this person, but this time, he couldn't hold back.

"You slept with her? What were you thinking?"

"I wanted you to be happy."

"Do you think that makes me happy?"

Confusion clouded Phil's eyes as he echoed the question, not understanding why Philip wouldn't be

happy.

Philip suddenly felt embarrassed, as if his gentle facade was being ripped away. He'd lived in

Greenfield for so long, witnessed so much deceit and change of heart, yet now he couldn't deal with

one sincere soul.

Releasing Phil's hand after a long pause, Philip still didn't know what to say. He turned to retreat to his

room, with Phil trailing behind him cautiously, not wanting to stir his anger further.

Once in the room, Philip stood by a cabinet filled with leaves Phil had collected, each meticulously

cleaned.

These specimens would last for years. After a minute with closed eyes, Philip spoke, "Don't sleep with

her again."

"But..."

"No buts."

Phil finally didn’t argue further. He fished a piece of biscuit from his pocket and began to crumble it,

nibbling on the pieces.

Philip watched him, feeling a mixture of frustration and pity. After such a significant incident, Phil

seemed unaffected, not realizing what being with a woman twice his age entailed.

A sigh escaped Philip as he felt the turmoil within him settle.

"From now on, just do what makes you happy."

A look of bewilderment crossed Phil's face; then he said without hesitation, "As long as you're happy,

I'm happy."

Philip was left speechless. Phil returned to his crumbled biscuit as if to say, “Just don't be mad; that's

all that matters.”

He still understood nothing, still taking Philip's word as gospel.

Ian had been in the base for two whole days. The staff here were the lowest of the low, their sole task

to drag bodies around, either dragging screaming people or the deceased. They all wore the same

uniform: white hazmat suits and goggles.

Ian was growing restless; Dylan and Walter were clearly not in this section.

The research base was massive, and from snippets of conversation, Ian gathered this was just a tiny

corner of it. The heart of the base lay further in, a place off-limits to the likes of them.

Then, in the afternoon, three individuals arrived, looking to select a few people to transfer to another

area.

Ian saw his chance and volunteered to help with the transfers, shadowing the group into a new section.

The layout was similar, and the staff wore the same uniforms. He overheard the person in front leading

the briefing.

"Move it, these folks are for the Doctor."

"The Doctor’s coming out of seclusion? But what about that last big project of hers?"

"That madwoman's got some new plan?" Reаd at Dramanovеls.com

"Shut it, the Doctor is not someone you lot can gossip about."

The Doctor? Who was that? While Ian pondered this, the man took a call.

Before answering, the man glanced at Ian, "What are you still doing here? Get the hell back to your Text content © NôvelDrama.Org.

section."