Both parents finally left.
Qiao Chengxun gently picked up his sleeping wife and carried her upstairs.
Laying his wife softly on the bed and covering her with a quilt, the man couldn't bear to leave, so he sat by the bedside.
His large hand lightly glided through his pregnant wife's beautiful hair, and with the habitual small act, unexpectedly his fingertips brought out a handful of black hair.
Qiao Chengxun felt as if a sharp blade had ruthlessly slashed open his heart, staring blankly at the hair twined around his fingertips, his gaze arduously returning to his pregnant wife's small round face.
How could Meimei suddenly lose so much hair?
An immense fear like a mountain collapsing struck down the man's last inner defense.
"Meimei…" his lips barely parted, discovering only now that his throat was dry and somewhat painful.
