The Officer's Runaway Wife & Secret Son novel Chapter 175

At seven in the evening, Simon was sprawled on the sofa retouching photos, glancing at the door every now and then.

"What time is it? Why isn't Noah back yet?"

Clara was adjusting the angle of her microphone. Without turning her head, she said, "Why are you rushing him? He's a doctor, not a private chef. Isn't overtime at the hospital normal?"

"But he promised to make mushroom soup tonight!"

Lately, Simon had been living his best life here.

Ever since that night they became "Partners in Crime," he and Noah had gotten thoroughly acquainted. Simon's boldness had grown, and now he frequently dared to recite menu requests to the man.

Surprisingly, Noah played along, responding to every request.

Whenever he had time to come over, he invariably carried dinner for three.

Just as the complaint fell from Simon's lips, the familiar rhythmic knock sounded.

Simon's eyes lit up. He kip-up off the sofa and sprinted to open the door.

Noah stood there holding a food container, a thin sheen of sweat on his forehead, as if he had hurried.

"My dear Dr. Carter, you're finally here!" Simon complained as he took the container. "If you hadn't shown up, I was about to call the police and report a tragic loss to the medical world!"

"Sorry, I got held up by something."

Clara asked, "Was the hospital busy today?"

If he was stuck at the hospital, he usually brought takeout or messaged them to fend for themselves; he wouldn't rush back like this.

"Not the hospital." Noah washed his hands, his voice gentle. "I went back home."

"Home?"

Simon remembered Clara mentioning this apartment was left by his grandmother, so he didn't pry further. He opened the lid of the container and took a deep sniff.

"Holy crap, which restaurant is this from? It smells amazing."

Simon lingered on the sofa to digest his food, moonlighting as the livestream moderator.

"We're not reading a book today, right? I saw a lot of people last time wanted you to just chat. Solidify the fanbase."

Clara agreed.

The account now had around ten thousand followers. When she didn't feel like reading, Clara would pick a few questions from her direct messages to answer.

The audience in the livestream was mostly quiet—insomniacs, or people facing emotional and life struggles, looking for a bit of resonance here.

"Good evening, I am 'Unknown'. No reading today, let's just chat. The weather is warming up recently; has spring arrived where you are?"

A wave of responses filled the comments. Some said it was still snowing; others said flowers were blooming.

Simon forwarded a private message to her screen. Clara read it aloud:

"A friend named 'Sunset' asks: I want to leave a city, but I'm afraid of the unknown future. What should I do?"