"Are you badmouthing me?"
The bedroom door abruptly swung open, revealing a tall and handsome man exuding an air of dignity and aloofness. However, the sight of him holding a ladle in his hand seemed oddly endearing, creating a delightful contrast.
Chloe's almond-shaped eyes widened as she stared at him, momentarily taken aback. "When did you get here?"
"An hour ago."
"Are you a ghost? How did you enter my apartment without making a sound?!"
Joseph adopted an innocent expression. "I saw you sleeping so peacefully, and I didn't want to disturb you. I never realized you’re such a deep sleeper."
A flicker of emotion passed through Chloe's eyes. "I’m exhausted today."
Joseph felt his heart melt. Lately, he had been consumed by numerous responsibilities, leaving him with little time to be with her. And today, he had even upset her.
"I've prepared some dishes. Come out and eat."
Chloe did not refuse as she was famished. She took a seat at the table while Joseph brought out the meticulously prepared dishes one by one—five visually stunning plates emitting irresistible aromas. The scent alone hinted at their deliciousness.
Chloe's mouth watered as she picked up her cutlery and indulged in a bite of the steak. The meat was tender, succulent, and infused with a delightful aroma, devoid of any excess grease. She found herself unable to resist, taking bite after bite, unable to satiate her appetite.
They say the way to a man's heart was through his stomach, but that saying only held weight if the man in question lacked culinary skills.
Joseph leaned in, resting his chin on his hand, and said with gentle affection, "Slow down. No one’s going to snatch it away from you." As he uttered those words, he also served her a comforting bowl of chowder, mindful of her well-being and worried she might choke.
Chloe was a little embarrassed. In the past, she had been the one caring for him, and now the roles were reversed, which felt strange. However, the moment this thought emerged, she vigorously shook her head. 'No, there's nothing peculiar about it. Even if it feels that way, I must adapt! I refuse to be treated as a commodity.'
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