The Officer's Runaway Wife & Secret Son novel Chapter 172

She was eating something that spicy?

Didn't she constantly suffer from stomach aches? She had just undergone surgery not long ago and was still in a weakened state. How was she supposed to handle food that spicy? Could her stomach even take it?

And Simon—usually so protective—why wasn't he stopping her at a critical moment like this?

Rhys's feet shifted to move, then stopped.

He couldn't make himself cross the street. He hadn't cared enough when he was her husband. Now, as the ex-husband who had caused her miscarriage, trying to control her would only enrage her.

She would probably dump that bowl of pasta right on his face.

Rhys stared at her figure for a moment longer, then said to Zachary, "Let's eat at the place next door. This one is too crowded, and the smell is too strong."

"Sure, whatever you say, Captain."

"You guys go in and order. I need to buy something."

Watching his colleagues enter the neighboring shop, Rhys turned and walked into a dessert bakery.

"Hi, I'd like a caramel pudding."

The clerk noted the order. "Okay. To go or for here?"

Rhys pointed to the diner across the street. "Could you please deliver it to the restaurant across the road? It's for the lady in the brown sweater sitting by the window."

The server leaned out to look. "And the gentleman with her?"

"Ignore him."

The server gave him a strange look, probably thinking he was eccentric, but tore off the receipt and handed it to the kitchen.

Rhys stood at the door of the bakery, watching the server cross the road with the tray and enter the diner.

This bakery was famous for its caramel pudding.

Clara loved this. In the past, whenever they passed by, she would insist on getting one to go. At home, she'd curl up on the couch and eat it slowly. She would often lift the spoon to his lips, insisting he try some too.

Sweets improved one's mood. After eating so much sour and spicy food, she needed something to settle her stomach.

Holding it in her hands, feeding Rhys a bite, then taking one herself—just the thought of it used to make her happy. In her view of romance, that was an expression of intimacy.

But now, feelings had changed, and so had her tastes.

Nausea slammed into her without warning. Clara's face went pale, and she covered her mouth, dry heaving.

"What's wrong?"

Simon jumped, startled, and hurriedly handed her a napkin.

Clara waved a hand, pushing the bowl further away until she could no longer smell it. Only then did the nausea slowly subside.

"I'm fine." She took a sip of water to wash down the bile in her throat. "I just can't stand that smell anymore."

Simon looked at the rejected pudding, then at Rhys, who was still standing like a statue outside. He was speechless.

"What a damn idiot."