Those Obsessed With Love Don’t Need A Job
Language: en
Late at night, after I let out a satisfied sigh, Dante Vale finally rolled gently off me. He had been unusually attentive lately. I figured he was probably about to leave me. I sighed quietly, turned over, and went to sleep. After all, everyone knew. I was the most useless kind of woman in love. When the sky wants to rain and a man wants to leave, what can I do? Beg bitterly? Cry, scream, threaten to die? That was what a real lovesick fool would do. But I was fake. A long time ago, I understood one truth. Everyone despised a woman who lost her head over love. Pretending to be one, however,…