Brian hit the button of central lock.

Rosalynn's brow creased as she turned to him.

"Unlock the door," she demanded.

Brian fixed his eyes on her.

"Do you really want to meet the Moreno family with such a distant demeanor?"

Rosalynn cast her gaze downward, sealing her lips, silent.

Brian let out a soft sigh and extended his hand to hers.

"Let's make up, Rosalynn."

In this marriage, regardless of her coldness, his love for her was unwavering. The thought of losing her was unbearable.

Thus, he was prepared to yield once more, clinging to the hope of warming her chilled heart.

Rosalynn didn't lift her head but contemplated the man's hand, with its pronounced knuckles. After a momentary hush, she said, "Brian, if your hand were slashed by a blade, would it heal by tomorrow?"

Brian's lips tightened, recognizing her analogy.

Her wounds were deep. They couldn't simply be ignored.

“Rosalymn..."

“Hear me out."

Interrupting him, Rosalynn looked up.

“Healing takes time. I can't say how long it'll be before the hurt fades. If you can wait, then wait. If not, we might as well divorce."

Her gaze was lucid, her demeanor, icy and composed.

At the mention of divorce, Brian felt a sharp ache.

His voice grew heavier, his grip firmer.