My Reborn Admirer Wins Over My Heart (Oriana) novel Chapter 41

**TITLE: He Returned to Break and Own Me and for His Queen**
**Chapter 41 Micah’s Amazing Cooking**

“This is absolutely divine! You truly have a gift. I swear, you could open your own restaurant and it would be a hit!” Oriana exclaimed, her eyes sparkling with delight as she savored the flavors of the dish Micah had prepared. She quickly scooped up another bite, eager to feed him.

But in an instant, her expression shifted to one of horror.

She had used that fork.

Micah had OCD!

Oriana felt her stomach twist into knots. “Oh no! I’m so sorry! I didn’t switch forks. Do you want to spit it out? I can grab some salt water for you to rinse your mouth!” Her words tumbled out in a rush, anxiety flooding her senses.

Yet, under her worried gaze, Micah continued to chew with a serene calmness, swallowing without a hint of disgust or irritation.

“It’s fine,” he reassured her, his tone steady.

“But Kieran mentioned you have OCD,” she pressed, her brow furrowed with concern.

“Oriana, you’re my wife. You’re not like everyone else,” he replied, his voice filled with a natural ease, as if it was the most evident truth in the universe. Just like that, she was reminded of their bond—she was his wife, not merely tied by a contract but by something far deeper.

Oriana felt herself freeze, caught off guard by his words. Her heart raced, a wild fluttering in her chest.

She quickly shook off the dangerous thoughts that threatened to spiral out of control. Micah was innocent, untainted by the harsh realities of the world. He was simply being polite, being kind. How could she twist his sincerity into something more?

“Shall we continue our meal then? I can fry up a couple more eggs. Don’t worry, I promise I can handle eggs just fine,” Oriana said, her voice brightening as she tried to shift the topic. She reassured him repeatedly, her determination to keep the mood light evident.

Micah, sensing her need to change the subject, let the moment pass without further comment.

After they finished their dinner, they worked together to clean up the kitchen, their movements synchronized in a comfortable rhythm. Then, they turned their attention to setting up a tank for the two little turtles they had decided to adopt. Oriana wasn’t particularly skilled with her hands, but thankfully, Micah was more than capable.

By the time they wrapped up, the clock was nearing eleven. They exchanged warm goodnights before retreating to their respective rooms, a sense of shared contentment lingering in the air.

—

As Oriana lay in bed, exhaustion washed over her, making her feel too drained to even shift her position. It was amusing, really—she hadn’t done much, yet here she was, utterly spent.

When she finally mustered the energy to pick up her phone, she noticed a flurry of messages from Zara waiting for her.

“There’s gossip, huge, hot-off-the-press gossip! Oriana, you need to get out of there!”

“Oriana? Where are you?”

“Oriana, why aren’t you responding? Are you all wrapped up in hubby-love with your husband?”

A sigh of defeat escaped her lips as she scrolled to the last message.

“Sorry! We spent the evening experimenting in the kitchen. I didn’t check my phone,” she typed back, feeling a bit sheepish.

Zara replied in an instant, her excitement palpable. “What? Cooking? Oriana, was this your first successful culinary adventure?”

“Total disaster,” Oriana confessed, a hint of humor creeping into her words.

“Then don’t force it! Your husband is loaded—just hire a maid! Why stress yourself out?”

Oriana remembered the effort it had taken to avoid being blocked by him, sending him messages daily, desperately trying to maintain some connection.

That winter, when she had brought him breakfast during her morning duty, one of the bullies in his class had caught her in the act.

The guy already harbored resentment towards Grant for being the teacher’s pet and consistently at the top of the class, always acting superior.

He led the others in mocking Grant, sneering that he lived off women, couldn’t even afford breakfast, and had to rely on a girl to feed him.

Grant had exploded in fury, dumping the hot chocolate milk she had kept warm in her coat pocket straight into the trash.

He glared at her with pure venom. “I don’t need your charity.”

In that moment, Oriana had felt utterly humiliated, guilt-ridden, and devastated all at once.

She had run away in tears, her cheeks burning with shame.

After that incident, all communication between them had come to a screeching halt.

Grant had never sent her a single word.

For two long days, she had sulked, stubbornly refusing to reach out.

But by the third day, she had calmed herself, no longer angry but already filled with regret.

She had wanted to reach out, to send gifts, to reconnect, but the walls she had built around her heart were still standing strong.