Although Nina Sinclair’s rented apartnt is relatively remote, there are markets, malls, and supermarkets nearby. She had checked them out before deciding to rent the place.
It was the ti of year when the peonies were in full bloom.
Veridia was filled with peonies, blooming in vibrant colors, the scenery was stunning, and the city was truly beautiful.
Peonies represent unwavering sincerity; their flower language signifies love that has found its focus.
Nina Sinclair began to daydream as she looked at the flowers by the roadside.
Not long ago, when Vincent Lancaster was coaxing her into marriage, he told her how beautiful Veridia’s peonies were, and that in the future, they could hold their engagent ceremony at The Peony Garden, making her the most beautiful bride.
Her heart was filled with longing for Veridia, never expecting her resolute devotion to lead to a deceiving end.
Now the man beside her wasn’t Vincent Lancaster, but a stranger she had only t once before.
Nina Sinclair sighed inwardly, truly unexpected are life’s twists and turns.
The two of them went to the supermarket for a big shop. Nina bought many daily necessities, like slippers, towels, and cups...
Everything was bought in pairs, with the sa style but different colors, giving off a sense of newlywed cohabitation.
Throughout the trip, Julian Lancaster silently accompanied her, carrying her items. It was only when they were almost done shopping that Nina noticed Julian’s hands were already full.
Yet, not once had he complained.
This man’s charm was so potent, it easily evoked goodwill in others.
Nina Sinclair didn’t want to trouble him further, so she said, "Let’s head back first, anything missing we can buy tomorrow."
They walked back to the apartnt from the market.
Julian Lancaster was carrying nurous shopping bags in his hands, while Nina Sinclair’s hands were empty.
She overheard a nearby couple whispering, "Look at how much her boyfriend dotes on her, doesn’t even let her carry anything. Unlike you, you wouldn’t even help carry my bag..."
Nina glanced at Julian Lancaster and realized she might have taken things for granted.
Back when she was with Vincent Lancaster, they were just like that couple who’d walked past, where Vincent wouldn’t even carry a bag for her.
She felt a pang of guilt, reaching out to help Julian Lancaster with the items, "Let help you with that."
Julian Lancaster wasn’t going to let Nina Sinclair carry anything; he slightly raised his hand to keep her from reaching, "No need."
Undeterred, Nina Sinclair reached out again.
Unexpectedly, she stumbled and fell onto him.
Her face hit his chest, flattening her nose, and it hurt so much her tears flowed.
Nina never thought such an awkward incident would happen just by trying to take sothing; she seed to always embarrass herself in front of Julian Lancaster.
Could it be she was under so horrible curse that made her lose face in front of this man?
"Sorry, it wasn’t on purpose."
Julian Lancaster’s deep eyes showed disdain; he believed she did it deliberately, always seizing any chance to flirt with him.
Such childish tactics!
Felt the intense gaze from the man, Nina Sinclair was mortified, and she hurriedly fled the scene.
Julian Lancaster watched her retreating figure, his brows slightly furrowed.
The feeling of her soft body pressed against him lingered, and she had this fresh, sweet scent.
Julian Lancaster pressed his lips together, suppressing his emotions, and took long strides to catch up with Nina Sinclair.
After returning to the apartnt, Nina Sinclair handed Julian Lancaster the newly bought duvet, saying, "You go cover the duvet, I’ll go make dinner in the kitchen."
With that, Nina went into the kitchen with a pot and vegetables.
Julian Lancaster looked at the duvet thrust into his hands, frowning.
Such tasks were for the Lancaster Family’s servants to do. Raised in luxury, he had never had to lift a finger, with everything provided for him, no one had ever dared to order him around.
But as he was posing as a driver, Julian Lancaster accepted his fate and took the items into the room.
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