Find me in your labyrinth (Stella and Jonathan) novel Chapter 2556

Sylvia quickly said, “Grandma Winters, you’ve misunderstood. I’m just a friend of Mr. Winters.”

“Oh?” The old woman’s reaction was a bit slow.

Eugene didn’t bother to explain, just smiled and changed the subject. “Sylvia and I haven’t eaten yet. Do you have anything good for us to eat?”

A woman in her forties walked over and greeted them warmly. “Young Master, you’re here?”

“Dora!” Eugene called out in greeting.

“You and this lady haven’t eaten yet? I’ll go make something for you right away,” Dora said, already turning toward the kitchen.

“No need to make anything fancy!” Sylvia protested quickly.

Eugene smiled at her, his expression gentle. “We’re both starving, so just something simple will do. Dora’s seafood pasta is the best in the whole city—would you mind making us two bowls?”

“Of course! I’ll get started right now!” Dora hurried off to the kitchen.

Eugene settled onto the sofa beside Grandma Winters, chatting with her in a soft, patient voice. Sometimes her words came slowly, her responses delayed, but he never showed the slightest impatience.

Every so often, Grandma Winters would turn to Sylvia and ask, “Where’s your home, dear? Do you have family nearby?”

Eugene answered for her, “She’s from far away. She’s living here in the city now.”

“So far away,” the old woman murmured, her gaze growing distant for a moment before she smiled again. “Well, then don’t go back. Stay here in the city, marry our Eugene.”

Her tone was low and kind, as if she were gently looking out for a granddaughter.

Worried that Sylvia might feel awkward, Eugene played along, teasing, “I’m still working on winning her over. Once she says yes, I’ll bring her home for you as your granddaughter-in-law.”

Sylvia shot him a look. “Stop making things up.”

Eugene pulled out a chair for Sylvia. “I’m not exaggerating—Dora’s pasta is unlike anything you’ve ever tasted.”

Sylvia picked up her fork, smiling. “It smells amazing already.”

Dora had also set out a few homemade pickles. The pasta was rich and fragrant, and paired with the tangy pickles, it truly tasted like something you couldn’t find anywhere else.

Between bites, Eugene said, “My grandma has always hoped I’d settle down and get married—she’s getting a little impatient, so just take what she said as a sign of her affection, okay?”

Sylvia nearly choked on her noodles at his sudden turn of phrase, laughing. “Can you not tell jokes while I’m eating? I might just choke!”

Eugene grinned. “Laughing while you eat is good for digestion.”

Sylvia shot him a smirk. “Oh, it’s definitely helping—because you’re making it impossible to eat!”

Eugene reached over and added more pickles to her plate. “That’s not my intention. I actually want you to eat more. It’s usually just Grandma and Dora here, so when we finally have a guest, if you eat too little, they’ll blame me for not being a good host.”