Regret After Divorce
“Stella, you take such good care of yourself! Your skin looks like that of a girl in her early twenties—I’m jealous.”
“Oh, come off it! You’re just buttering me up. Your mom’s inside—go on in.”
“Got it!” Eleanor linked arms with me and walked inside. “Mom, I brought Scarlett!”
The assistant nurse closed the door behind us.
Elisa’s office was spacious, featuring not only a workspace but also a treatment room.
The treatment room door opened, and she emerged wearing a white lab coat.
A woman in her forties, she sported a sleek, stylish short haircut. Well-preserved, with light makeup that barely showed her age, she radiated the charm of a mature woman—intelligent and graceful.
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