Chapter 49 Reading the Novel
Chapter 49 Reading the Novel
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An awkward silence filled the air. Freya calmly pretended nothing had happened as she placed the piece of ginger into the waste container on the table. “I was just picking the ginger out.”
“Actually, a little dark circle isn’t a big deal,” Louis offered sincerely.
“How could it not be? A person’s life only lasts a little over thirty thousand days–maybe even less. And at most, you’re only truly beautiful for seven or eight thousand of them. Every single one of those days should be treasured. Otherwise, once time’s gone, it never comes back.” Freya said this with a tone of solemn despair.
Louis: “… Whatever you say.”
Even so, he still pushed the stir–fried shredded potatoes–Freya’s favorite–closer to her. If she hadn’t cut the ginger into long strips just slightly thicker than the potatoes, how would she have mixed them up in the first place?
Freya stuck to the dishes right in front of her and absolutely refused to reach across the table again. No way I’m embarrassing myself twice.
After dinner, Freya stood to clear the bowls, but Louis stopped her. “I’ll do it today.”
“No need, I can handle it.”
“You can’t even see clearly. Better let me do it.” But before he could pick up the bowls, Freya had already ripped the eye masks off her face in one swift motion.
Dear god!
Her novels were either modern romance, historical romance, or wildly imaginative fantasy. She wouldn’t even let her best friends read them–worried they’d call her weird. Letting Louis, of all people, see them? Absolutely mortifying. She’d never survive it!
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