Meanwhile, at Zed's villa, Jean received a phone call from her father, Henry. After she finished speaking with him, Jean tossed the phone on the bed. There was no way that she was going to consider what he had said.
Jean was still wearing the pajama's Zed had helped her put on the previous night. She smiled as she thought of how considerate Zed had been. He had insisted on checking her injuries and had applied medicine to her wounds.
She had expected to be in tremendous pain after the beating. But Zed's medicine had helped the wounds get better. Most had started scabbing as well. Just as Jean's body was healing quickly, the wound on her heart was closing as well.
Jean walked to the closet to find a suit of clean clothes. She picked a chiffon shirt and matched it with a pair of casual pants.
She then changed out of the pajamas. Although she was still recovering, the casual outfit made her feel much better.
Jean sauntered around the villa slowly. After a thorough search, she still couldn't find Zed. Did he leave for work early in the morning?
And now, it was nearly noon.
At the thought, Jean's stomach rumbled to remind her that she hadn't eaten anything all day. She stepped into the kitchen to make herself some food. Jean was surprised to see a note stuck to the fridge door.
Normally, Jean was the only person who frequented the kitchen. Since their marriage, Zed had never entered the kitchen. Who would leave her a note?
With this in mind, Jean slowly approached the fridge. Since she had no reason to believe that Zed would have left her a note, she was being cautious.
"There's some warm food in the pot."
The note was written simply. As was customary with Zed, he used as few words as possible. However, gentleness and warmth could be sensed from the note.
Jean stared at the note blankly. She was still trying to come to terms with the change in Zed's behavior from the previous night. How should she react to the note? Should she be moved? Happy? Feel blessed?
Considering the circumstances of her marriage with Zed, how could she possibly feel blessed?
'Zed probably did this out of some sense of concern for my injuries, ' she rationalized. 'It is not possibly an act of love.
No, it can't be for love.'
After thinking for a while, Jean found it too challenging to figure out Zed's intentions. So she just gave up. Although still unsure about Zed's intentions, Jean's stomach wouldn't allow her to wait any longer. So she lifted the lid and peeped inside. She smiled when she saw steaming hot red date congee.
Tentatively Jean took a small taste of the congee. 'It is so unexpectedly good! I thought he had made a common congee. I was so wrong!' The congee had a generous helping of red dates and longans. The ingredients were common, but they complimented the congee really well. The gruel was neither excessively sweet nor insipid. It was just perfect.
The effort made by Zed to prepare the special congee not only surprised Jean, it also evoked her appreciation for Zed. It was undeniable that Zed had done a great job, whether with the congee, or with his considerate and consistent care.
Jean was amazed by Zed. All this while, she had thought of him as entitled and conceited. There were times when he behaved like a child. She would never have imagined that he knew how to cook. What surprised her even more was that he had made it really well.
Memories of the previous night started popping up in her mind. Zed, the man who was always cold with Jean, had shown her enormous kindness and care when she was hurt.
Such a gentle and soft Zed was so different to what he had been in the past. It was as if he were a different person.
'Any girl who is lucky enough to marry Zed in the future would be very blessed indeed! She will, I'm sure.'
Jean thought as she settled at the table with the meal. Then she turned her attention to the sweet congee.
Jean devoured the congee. She had completely forgotten that she had left her phone in the bedroom. The phone rang several times, but Jean couldn't hear it.
In the meanwhile, On the topmost floor of the commercial tower in the city center, Zed stood in front of the french windows of the executive office. He frowned as he looked at the phone in his hand.
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