Isabella Weaver found everything interesting, her enthusiasm was high, and she kept talking to Harry Hunter, asking about this and that.
Harry Hunter had been here countless tis before; he never found anything special about this place. Unexpectedly, accompanying Isabella Weaver, he experienced a different feeling—light-hearted and joyful, even sensing the romantic essence of the City of Romance.
Isabella Weaver bought many things: accessories, shoes and socks, hats, dresses. By the ti they returned to the hotel, the trunk was nearly full.
The commonality among everything she picked was unique design and beautiful color combinations.
She also bought little gifts for David and a few others based on their personalities and appearances.
Seeing that they all had gifts, Harry Hunter felt dissatisfied after returning to the hotel. He cornered her and asked, "Where’s mine?"
Isabella Weaver pretended not to understand, "Your what?"
"My gift? They all got one, how co I didn’t?"
"What kind of gift do you want? I bought so many things, just pick anything you want."
Harry Hunter was even more dissatisfied, grasping her chin coolly, "Is this how you casually treat your husband? Do you want to sleep tonight? Hmm?"
"Yes!"
Isabella Weaver quickly conceded, afraid he’d really beco angry.
"I did buy you gifts, more than one actually."
Harry Hunter snorted coldly, looking slightly better.
Isabella Weaver pulled him to sift through a large pile of things, "This tie is for you, these tortoiseshell cufflinks are also for you, and a lighter, couple slippers, couple hats, there’s so much!"
There were so many she couldn’t even count them.
Harry Hunter imdiately changed into the couple slippers, glanced at her from above, then walked off to freshen up with a cold expression.
Isabella Weaver was both amused and helpless; he was still unsatisfied and wasn’t even talking to her.
When picking his things, she was far more earnest than for herself or those four.
She also changed into the couple slippers and ran into the bathroom to cling to him, "Honey, I gave you so many gifts, are you still dissatisfied?"
"These are called gifts? Aren’t these just our everyday household items?"
Harry Hunter was brushing his teeth, face indifferent, "The gifts you gave David and them had exquisite packaging, mine had nothing."
Isabella Weaver hugged his waist and laughed softly.
The grand Young Master Hunter actually wanted gifts with fancy packaging, just like a kid, still competing with David and them.
"They’re outsiders; of course, I packaged gifts nicely for them. You’re not an outsider; you’re my man. Why make the gifts look nice for you? Practicality cos first!"
Sothing within those words hit a cord with Harry Hunter, his cold face broke down, and he held Isabella Weaver, kissing her on the forehead, smudging her head with toothpaste foam.
Isabella Weaver, with a head full of toothpaste foam, looked at him expectantly, "Not angry anymore?"
Harry Hunter rinsed his mouth, his tone casual, "When was I angry?"
"Not angry? You were so frightening with that cold face earlier, not talking to , and your tone was icy."
"I was only silent for two minutes."
Harry Hunter held her with one arm, took a wet towel with the other hand to wipe her face; his tone unknowingly softened, "Even if you made angry enough to die, I wouldn’t bear to cold-war with you. You rush in and hug , and I lose."
Isabella Weaver glared at him, "Harry Hunter, you still want to cold-war with ?"
"Do I dare?"
Harry Hunter gently caressed her long hair, "But these don’t count as gifts; you have to pick sothing new for . I just want one, well-packaged, prettier than the ones you gave David and them."
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