Irene finished hanging the clothes and ca back to see Daisy Ginger sitting all alone, so she went to knock on the kitchen door.
Edward Stephens glanced at it and then opened the door.
Irene made a gesture to him, and the man stepped aside to let her in.
Daisy tilted her head to watch the two of them. Edward glanced at her and then closed the kitchen door again.
Tch.
What’s the big deal.
Daisy pouted and took out her phone to play a ga.
Five minutes later, Irene ca out of the kitchen holding a plate of strawberries.
She couldn’t speak, so she gently placed the strawberries in front of Daisy and made a gesture as if to say "eat."
Daisy looked up at her. The young girl had a pretty face; if it weren’t for her eyes being slightly wider apart than average, one wouldn’t even tell she was mildly intellectually disabled.
Daisy picked up a strawberry, took a bite, and thanked her.
Then, she couldn’t help but glance in the direction of the kitchen.
It’s a pity Irene is a little mute; otherwise, Daisy could have asked her what Edward was doing here.
Instead of staying comfortably in the big city or being the second young master of the Stephens family, he ran off to this godforsaken countryside to cook for himself.
She almost suspected that this guy’s head had been damaged over the past three years.
Could it be that the car accident didn’t cause him to lose his mory but instead made him silly?
As she imagined this, suddenly, she heard a small cheer from Irene. Daisy turned her head and saw the man coming out of the kitchen, holding sothing steaming, heading into the dining room.
Irene happily trotted over, clearly very familiar with Edward. The man ca out from the dining room and beckoned her with a finger.
The aroma of chicken soup wafted through the air, becoming even more intense once the kitchen door was opened. She had hardly eaten anything, and her stomach growled in response.
Irene ca out of the dining room, excitedly pulled Daisy, and led her into the dining room.
On the dining table were two bowls of ran, one slightly smaller, the other slightly larger. Irene sat her down next to the larger bowl.
Daisy looked down at the steaming chicken noodle soup in front of her, a little dazed.
The noodles were from flour Edward had just bought at the supermarket, and the chicken soup was freshly made by him, topped with a bit of chopped green onion. It looked and slled delicious.
She leaned down and took a sip of the soup.
It might have been seasoned to her taste, just right.
She turned her head slightly to glance at the man leaning on the door fra. His sleeves were still rolled up, his long fingers showing no traces of cooking, clean and tidy.
Daisy returned her gaze to the table, lowered her head, and carefully finished the noodles he had made for her, and finally drank the soup as well.
The man ca over, sat across from her, and asked, resting his chin on his hand, "Do you like it?"
But Daisy’s face didn’t look good.
She wasn’t very happy.
"Don’t do it again."
"Why?" The man tilted his head, "Didn’t you like it?"
"It’s delicious. But I don’t like it."
The man looked at her, seemingly not understanding what she ant, watched her for a mont, then lowered his eyes and chuckled lightly.
He always seed to be indifferent.
Whether it was the inherited disease flaring up and getting expelled from the Stephens family, choosing to give up everything to marry her in Banyan City, or now, cooking a al for her.
He can do anything, is willing to do anything, and doesn’t argue with her about anything.
Daisy spoke in a muffled, unhappy voice.
"Don’t cook again."
That’s not sothing he should be doing.
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