I stared at Steven in shock, forgetting to even register the intimacy of his embrace.
“You made this?”
Steven gave a soft hum of affirmation. “Yes. I put some sweet potato and corn in the soup. There is stir-fried beef. I also made a fried egg. See if you like it.”
I glanced at the stove. The aroma was rich and appetizing.
I couldn't help but look back at the young man before me as if I were seeing him for the first time, completely frozen.
“When did you learn to cook?”
I could swear on my life that Steven didn't know how to cook. Not in my past life, not in this one.
He was the meticulously groomed heir to the Lancaster family, a product of the finest education. Cooking was a waste of time, something that would never have been part of his upbringing.
He never needed to.
So how did he suddenly acquire this skill? It was unbelievable.
“There are many things I can do. If you want to know, I’ll tell you next time.” Steven hid the glint in his eyes and softened his tone. “Let’s eat.”
I pulled myself out of my stupor. Unable to explain his newfound ability, I could only attribute it to him taking up cooking during his recovery from the car accident while juggling everything else.
Suddenly aware of our intimate position, I pushed him away forcefully.
Steven didn't get angry. His expression remained calm as he turned to serve me a bowl of soup.
Watching this new, attentive version of him felt completely unreal, and my lips tightened.
“Steven, you don’t have to try and win me over. I’m not going to change my mind, and you don’t need to change either.”
If he had treated me like this in my past life, I would have been too excited to sleep. Even after my miscarriage, when I had started to resent him, this behavior would have made me love him all over again. It was what I had longed for for so, so long.
Steven said coolly, “Making you breakfast is a perfectly normal thing to do.”
I didn’t bother arguing. “Give me my phone back.”
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