Five Years of Marriage to Mr. Bradford (by Koi Fish) novel Chapter 97

Chapter 97

“Alright,” Vance replied, sounding quite cheerful.

His upbeat vibe persisted all the way until they arrived at Josette’s door, where she was preparing lunch.

The table was modestly set with oatmeal, salad, and fresh greens. Upon seeing them enter, she appeared startled and a bit flustered, hastily gathering up the dishes to clear them away.

“What brings you here at this hour? Have you eaten yet? I’ll cook something for you guys,” she said.

Reberca surveyed the unassuming meal spread out before her, which stood in such stark contrast to the elaborate and abundant spreads that Josette always prepared whenever she came to visit.

“Grandma, how can you settle for eating something like this?” she asked.

Josette grabbed the dishes in a hurry, almost as if trying to hide them. “I’m just finishing up some leftovers from breakfast. It’d be a waste to throw it away. This isn’t how I usually eat.”

Rebecca wasn’t convinced, and her mouth twisted into a pronounced pout of disapproval.

“Alright, drop that look,” Josette teased. “I’ll fix something delicious for you right now. Just hang tight for a little while!”

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She grabbed the plates and scurried into the kitchen.

A deep sense of sadness welled up inside Rebecca. She knew deep down that this meager meal wasn’t just an occasional

occurrence.

Vance set down the gifts, then sidled over to her with a hint of amusement. “It’s fascinating how you seem to revert to being a little kid every single time we step through her door.”

Wordless, she followed Josette into the kitchen, where the latter had already opened the refrigerator and was pulling out some fresh meat, holding it up like irrefutable proof. “See? Just bought these cuts today, planning to use them for dinner. But of course, you had to catch me dealing with leftovers.”

Rebecca remained unconvinced, and her mood was visible on her face.

“You silly child,” Josette chuckled. “Forget it. You must be starving. What would you like to eat?”

“Pasta with meat sauce,” Rebecca mumbled.

“Sure,” Josette drawled. “Go wait outside. It will be ready soon.”

“Actually, I make great pastas,” he said, easing the meat out of her grasp. “I cooked plenty for myself back in my younger days.”

Rebecca nodded. “Yeah. Take a seat. I’ll peel some grapes for you.”

At home, Vance had never cooked once. A man of his stature didn’t typically prepare meals for others, but Rebecca knew her culinary skills were good.

It all went back to their high school days, during a class–organized picnic outing. While their classmates had frolicked along the riverbank, Vance had remained remarkably steady, methodically building a stove out of stacked stones, kindling a fire, and starting to cook.

She had discovered later on that his family was quite wealthy, but they had been largely absent from his life. He had learned to handle everything on his own from a young age.

He always appeared neat, clean, composed, and resilient. That day at the picnic had marked the only occasion when she had ever

seen him in a disheveled state.

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