Nia Mitchell kept grumbling, pouting and complaining non-stop.
However, her complaints were silenced by Maxwell Peary with... a silent stare.
The kitchen was shrouded in steam. Maxwell stood to one side, dropping noodles into boiling water. After watching for a while, Nia secretly took one of the tomatoes Maxwell had washed and set aside, biting into it raw.
"MMM... this is really delicious. Uncle Peary, your tomatoes are exceptionally sweet."
She appraised it as she ate, then casually opened the refrigerator for a peek.
"Uncle Peary, your place has so little ready-to-eat food. Who has the energy to cook when they’re starving?"
She didn’t know how to cook either...
And Maxwell didn’t know how to cook, except for... boiling noodles.
Seeing Maxwell cutting tomatoes, she reached out and pinched another piece, tossing it into her mouth.
"MMM, this one is delicious."
Maxwell turned to look at Nia, whose mouth was bulging with food. He shook his head fondly, reaching out to wipe a seed from her lips.
"Look at you, your mouth is so full. Is someone fighting you for it?"
Nia put down the half-eaten tomato and reached out to pinch another piece from the chopping board.
"Food tastes better when there’s someone to snatch it from. It’s a pity, Uncle Peary, you’re not the type to fight over food with others."
Nia smirked. Although she hadn’t known Maxwell for long, she understood him a little, at least.
However, just as the words left her mouth, the tomato she was about to pop into her own was intercepted. Maxwell leaned down and snatched that piece of tomato from her fingertips with his mouth.
His warm tongue lightly brushed Nia’s fingers, and she flinched, pulling her hand back.
Nia immediately withdrew her hand, a tingling, numbing sensation spreading from her fingertips to her heart, lingering there.
"You... how could you do that?"
She looked at her fingers and stomped her foot. Hmph, pervert! Pervert!
Maxwell was in an excellent mood. The tomato in his mouth tasted even sweeter and more fragrant. What was it that little Rabina said just now? Food tastes better when there’s someone to snatch it from. Yes, yes, he agreed. This was the best-tasting tomato he had ever eaten.
Maxwell moved beside her, reaching out to hook an arm around her slender waist, and lowered his head, burying it in her neck.
"Does your neck still hurt?"
He gently nuzzled the gauze on her neck, his husky voice muffled as it reached her. Nia tensed, feeling the warmth of his breath on her neck. Nᴇw novel chapters are publɪshed on 𝗻𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗹•𝕗𝕚𝕣𝕖•𝗇𝗲𝘁
She was a little unused to his sudden change of topic, but still answered seriously.
"It doesn’t hurt anymore."
Maxwell nodded, lifted his head to peck her lips, then bent down and carried her out in his arms.
"It will get smoky from the cooking later. You just sit here and wait."
Maxwell lowered his head, looking into her eyes as he spoke. He stroked her seemingly feverish cheek, a smile playing on his lips.
"Also... remember this from now on: this is not my house, it’s our house."
Maxwell seriously corrected her choice of words, his sincere gaze carrying a note of emphasis.
Nia was slightly surprised, feeling a bit lost at his sudden words.
"This is indeed your house. Everything here is yours. I don’t have a home."
She had lost her home the moment she boarded the train with her suitcase to start her University life.
Looking at her large, misty, uncomprehending eyes, Maxwell thought for a moment and then sat down beside her.
"Nia Mitchell, I don’t care what your reasons were for this marriage or what your attitude is. I’m making it clear to you now: if you don’t genuinely want to maintain this marriage, then let’s go to the Civil Affairs Bureau before it closes today and get this marriage dissolved."
Divorce? Maxwell Peary wanted a divorce!?
"You want a divorce?"