Joseph looked embarrassed. He coughed drily. "Nonsense. I'm just worried about your health."
Jasper was just a child, after all. When he saw his father's stern expression, he obediently put down his fork and said, "Okay, I'll stop eating. Good night, Ms. Chloe. I'm going to go to bed."
Chloe leaned back in her chair. "Good night. I'll wake you when Grandpa wakes up."
"Okay."
Jasper went upstairs, so only Chloe and Joseph were left in the dining room.
Chloe yawned lazily before glancing at Joseph. She then got up and went toward Harold's room. She had no plans to stay there with him.
Joseph remained where he was, scrolling through his phone. He only looked up a few seconds after Chloe walked into Harold’s room. He then glanced at the half-eaten sausage pasta on the table.
His belly failed him and rumbled loudly. After some slight hesitation, he pulled the plate toward him and started eating the pasta. The taste was familiar—simple food that he had been missing for years. During the countless nights that he returned home after working late in the office, he yearned to go back in time, to when the woman who loved to cook for him still stayed in this cold house.
Joseph ate fast but elegantly and finished the pasta in less than three minutes. As he picked up a napkin to wipe his lips, he heard someone behind him chuckle.
Chloe crossed her arms and smiled. "And I assumed you’d hate leftovers. How odd!"
Joseph's eyebrow twitched. He lied through his teeth, "I just don't like wasting food."
"Tsk, I'll pretend that I believe you." Chloe shrugged. She beamed as she approached him. "Just tell me if you like the food I cook. I’ll cook for you."
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