When Your Love Comes Late

"Honey, you're so handsome!"

"Honey, I love you!"

"Honey, you sing so well."

In the audience, the fans around me were shouting crazily. I couldn't help but sigh.

"Alas, my husband is so popular. I'm happy and a little jealous."

The girl next to me gave me a thumbs-up.

"Sis, you really sound like Mrs. Mitchell."

I was overjoyed. 'Mrs. Mitchell, that's a nice title.'

On the stage, Zayn was dressed in a white suit and singing while playing the piano.

His voice was like a fine wine that had been brewing for many years, and it intoxicated everyone present.

His slender fingers had distinct bones, like exquisite porcelain, which were artistic.

"He's so handsome." I wiped the corner of my mouth, for fear that my saliva would flow down.

I went to every one of his concerts and was never tired of it.

In the end, I raised the camera in her hand and took a picture of this beautiful scene.

'He'd gain tens of thousands of fans once I posted the photos on Twitter.' I looked at the pair of delicate hands in the photo and said proudly.

After the concert, I edited the picture in a hurry.

Two hours later, I posted the photo on Twitter and soon received a lot of likes.

"Jessie is still performing steadily. This picture is amazing."

"Why does Jessie have such a good angle? She can always get to the front row at every concert."

"Wow, Zayn is so good-looking when he plays the piano! His hand was kissed by God!"

"Thank you for taking such a handsome photo of my husband!"

As the number one fan of Zayn, I had specially learned how to take photos and edit pictures.

My Twitter account was full Zayn's photos and paintings of him, so I had hundreds of thousands of followers.

But soon, a private message on Twitter caught my attention.

"Jessie, we got the latest location of Zayn. You're good at taking photos. Do you want to take something with us?"

The latest location

I noticed that something was wrong, so I immediately replied, "Okay, but how do you know the information is right?"

"We installed a tracker in his car. We're on the way to his hotel."

"Smack!" Seeing this sentence, I slapped the keyboard angrily. 'Damn it, they are stalking him.'

'No, I can't let Zayn's privacy be exposed, and I can't let them follow us to the hotel to take photos secretly.'

I quickly took out my phone, found Zayn's number that I had saved the day we married and called him.

The next second, the call was connected.

"Ms. Yellen, what happened?" Zayn sounded a little tired.

"Mr... Mr. Mitchell, your car has a tracker installed in it. Get another car! It's the first time I've called him, and I'm so nervous that I almost called him honey.

"Mr. Mitchell, there is indeed a car following us. I'll get some cars over right now." His agent's anxious voice came from the other end of the line.

"Thank you for your reminder, Ms. Yellen. I'll be back tomorrow." This time, it was Zayn's voice.

"You're... you're welcome." My ears turned red and I immediately hung up.

His last sentence was just like an ordinary husband reporting to his wife, which made me restless.

Zayn didn't know that his contract wife was a loyal fan of his for fifteen years.