Please Let Me Go, My Contracted Ex-Husband.-Chapter 150 - - what today is

In the end, she didn't know how, but they managed to drag her over to his side. She was close to losing her temper when he unceremoniously pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly. Handing her his cards, he asked:

"Wife, which card should I play?"

She was so furious she almost exploded. Clenching her teeth, she casually picked one. To her shock, he actually played the card she suggested—and the most outrageous part? He won. Not just won, but hit the jackpot with a grand slam.

Everyone stared in disbelief before erupting into dissatisfied protests, shouting that the two of them had to kiss as a celebration. He seemed overly delighted, not just because of the win, but for reasons beyond that. Leaning over, he gave her a light kiss on the cheek.

But the crowd wasn't satisfied—they started chanting for a fiery tongue kiss. This time, she wasn't having it. Public displays of affection weren't her thing. She furrowed her brows and glared at him, clearly showing her displeasure.

He glanced at his buddies, feigning helplessness, and sighed.

"Well, since everyone insists... why don't we just go along with it?"

His tone carried a hint of suppressed excitement and mischievous triumph. Before she could react, he cupped her face and kissed her deeply on the lips. Completely ignoring the hoots and cheers around them, he indulged himself in tasting her soft lips.

When he finally let her go, her face was burning red, and she was too flustered to resist. She curled up in his arms, too embarrassed to lift her head. She couldn't shake the feeling that this whole group had conspired to set her up.

Later, as they prepared to leave, everyone started gathering their things. She suddenly realized her phone was missing. Frantically searching, she couldn't help but blame him. He'd dragged her from playing cards to karaoke all night, moving around constantly, and now she had no idea where she might have left it.

He seemed completely unfazed by her panic and said flatly,

"Just call your number and see where it is."

Taking out his phone, he dialed her number. The room went quiet as everyone stopped to listen, turning off the music in the private booth. A moment later, Klutz retrieved her phone from under a seat. Glancing at the caller ID, he burst into a playful grin.

"Well, well, it says *Hubby* is calling—how cheesy!"

"Cough, cough—"

Her face turned beet red with embarrassment. She rushed over, snatching the phone from Klutz's hand, wishing the ground would open up and swallow her whole. Meanwhile, Albert Wilson's lips curved into a silent, amused smile.

By the end of the night, she was fuming. After the gathering broke up, she shoved him aside, determined to hail a cab on her own. But before she could flag one down, his silver-gray car pulled up right in front of her.

She ignored him, keeping her face cold. He looked at her, a hint of guilt in his expression, and said,

"Wife, I was wrong. Please don't be mad. Let's go home and talk about it."

Behind her, the others cast her knowing looks, their eyes filled with teasing amusement. Left with no choice, she reluctantly got into his car. He had already humbled himself so much in front of everyone; she couldn't bring herself to embarrass him further.

When they got home, Albert Wilson immediately wrapped his arms around her, trying to get intimate. She was so exasperated that she couldn't help but shout,

"Albert Wilson, haven't you had enough? Aren't you tired after an entire evening of this nonsense?"

She couldn't believe it. How could everything that happened tonight have been so coincidental? She was convinced they had orchestrated it all beforehand.

"Not tired, not tired! Even if we keep going until dawn, I won't be tired..."

Before she could finish her string of complaints, his soft, insistent kisses silenced her completely. After the chaos of the day, it seemed she had no choice but to settle down for now.

The days that followed were relatively uneventful. Life returned to its ordinary rhythm: peaceful and simple. She continued to stay quietly by his side, maintaining a low profile, while the outside world remained full of speculation about their marriage.

The previous year's wedding anniversary had left an indelible mark on both of them—she had nearly lost her life, tossed into the ocean. That day became a date they could never forget.

Although they both had every intention of remembering the anniversary this year, life got in the way. He was suddenly called overseas on a business trip, and she was overwhelmed by her thesis, leaving her completely preoccupied. By the time the day arrived, she had outright forgotten about it.

That bright morning, she was still in her advisor's office, drenched in sweat as she endured her strict professor's reprimands. His calls kept coming in repeatedly. Every time her phone rang, her professor gave her a sharp, disapproving glare that made cold sweat bead on her forehead. With trembling fingers, she rejected his call for the umpteenth time.

"Don't you know that you need absolute focus when revising a thesis? Your phone should be turned off! Who keeps calling you like this? What could possibly be so important that it can't wait until after your work is done?"

The professor, with a sharp glint in her eyes, glared at Cynthia, clearly displeased.

Cynthia wiped the sweat from her forehead, shuddering, and blurted out,

"My husband..."

She was so terrified of the professor, too afraid that a single wave of her hand could cause her thesis to fail. In the face of that piercing gaze, her mind short-circuited, and she accidentally let it slip.

The professor froze, her eyes widening in shock behind her gold-rimmed glasses. Her mouth hung open in disbelief,

"What... what did you say? You're married?"

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Although university students were allowed to marry, it was still a new policy, and very few people were willing to be the first to take that step. After all, most students at that age were in the prime of their youth, enjoying their time without any intention of jumping into the grave of marriage so soon.

"I, I..."

Cynthia bit her lip, stammering. This was it—what was she going to do now? If the professor found out she was married, it would totally ruin her reputation in her eyes. Oh no, her thesis...

She was about to let out a long, despairing sigh when Bonnie, another student working with the same advisor, looked up from her computer and casually said,

"Teacher, she's talking about her boyfriend. Didn't you know? Nowadays, young people like to call their boyfriends 'husband.'"

Cynthia breathed a sigh of relief but saw the professor shoot her a harsh glare. It seemed she hadn't expected Cynthia to be one of those open-minded women. But she was innocent—he truly was her husband.

Taking advantage of the professor's absence, she quickly sent him a text,

"What's going on? I'm revising my thesis with my advisor and can't take calls right now!"

A moment later, his angry reply came through,

"Don't tell me you've forgotten what today is!"

It was only then that she realized—today was their wedding anniversary. After finishing her revisions, she walked out and found his car already parked at the school gate.