CHAPTER 40: CHAPTER 40: IS SHE... COMFORTING HIM?

"You’re just eating this?"

Wyatt is eating cake.

A six-inch cream cake, he’s already eaten most of it.

The remaining piece, poked into a mess by him, looks completely unappetizing at first glance.

Wyatt doesn’t know what to say.

He’s covered in sweat, feeling quite smelly right now.

His hair is also all messy.

He never thought she’d actually come and stayed.

Right now, his cherished image has shattered, like the cake crumbs under his fork.

In his daze, he feels a coolness on his forehead.

"Hmm, the fever has subsided..."

Serena reaches out to feel it, then looks down at Wyatt’s eyes and asks, "Are you in a bad mood?"

Wyatt’s heart makes a clear sound.

She remembers that he likes to eat cake when he’s feeling down.

"Yeah."

Wyatt responds.

Serena hesitates and says, "But, when you’re sick, you should eat something light and nutritious, you need to supplement with some protein... Do you have anything you’d like to eat?"

Wyatt shakes his head.

Serena frowns, "Then... some porridge?"

Wyatt looks at the bowl of white and unappetizing thick porridge and shakes his head.

"Chicken wonton?"

"..."

"Pork and century egg porridge?"

No impatience in her eyes, Serena asks carefully and patiently.

In Wyatt’s heart, the previous irritation suddenly smooths out.

Is she... comforting him?

The thought arises, and Wyatt nods.

Serena breathes a sigh of relief.

When someone’s sick, the most dreadful thing is losing their appetite.

But if you don’t eat, the illness won’t get better.

It’s good that there’s something he wants to eat.

"You go take a hot shower, I’ll make you porridge... It should be ready by the time you come out."

Serena says, turning to head into the kitchen.

Wyatt silently gets up and goes into the bedroom.

The door closes and darkness descends.

Wyatt leans against the inside of the door.

Looking back at the pitch-black nightfall outside the window, his lips curve slightly.

There are tiny sparkles in his eyes.

In the kitchen, Serena opens the fridge and freezes.

In the double-door fridge, the chilled section holds six cakes.

Cream.

Grape.

Blueberry.

Strawberry.

Matcha.

In the corner, there’s a chocolate one.

Looking back at the island counter with the ice cream cake already melted into a mess.

Serena can’t help but glance towards the bedroom.

Does he like eating cake?

Wyatt comes out after showering, the silent gloom in his features slightly improved.

2S, full and well-rested, energetically surrounds his feet, tail held high.

A fragrance wafts from the kitchen.

Wyatt steps forward and stands at the door.

"Almost ready..."

Serena glances back at him and continues stirring the porridge in the pot.

On the island counter are several freshly made small dishes.

Cold cucumber salad.

Sugar tomato salad.

Sautéed wood ear mushrooms in vinegar.

Spicy cabbage.

When two bowls of porridge are placed on the table, Serena hands him the chopsticks, "Try it, see if it suits your taste."

Wyatt nods, taking the chopsticks.

The cucumbers are cold and crisp.

The tomatoes are cold and sweet, their sweetness settling deep within.

The body, weakened by hot water, is instantly rejuvenated, and Wyatt lowers his head to drink some porridge.

Fragrant and tender, much like his current mood.

A spoonful of porridge.

A few bites of vegetables.

Wyatt seems to get hungrier the more he eats, finishing one bowl and refilling for a second.

Serena’s anxiety completely dissipates.

She wasn’t very confident.

After all, Wyatt had grown up pampered.

At Hillcrest Villa, the rice they consumed is supplied by a designated base, and even the water they drink is delivered daily by dedicated transport.

What she cooked was far from the work of a chef and barely qualified as home-cooked dishes.

The only advantage is its quick preparation and its refreshing taste.

They are dishes she loves but Adrian disdains.

The first time she made them, Adrian’s smile halted upon seeing the table’s display, though he said nothing and ate silently.

The second attempt came much later, and Adrian furrowed his brows, hardly moving his chopsticks.

By the third time, Adrian’s face fell: Serena, is the Lockwood Family so poor we can’t afford food? If you don’t want to cook, just say so, we can eat out and come back, who are you performing this struggling act for?

Serena was stunned.

Not counting that one tough year.

The year when they both joined The Lockwood Group, and life got better, working together.

After a busy day, he entered, collapsing tired on the sofa.

While she, stomach growling, had to cook.

The only thought was to hurry, eat quickly, and rest soon.

She even suggested eating out before coming home, but Adrian said he didn’t want to.

Later, as she awaited delivery at home.

Disliking the taste of the maid’s cooking.

And a lack of fondness for seafood.

She tried various ways to make him delicious food.

There’s occasional fatigue and drowsiness, resulting in a few quick dishes, and his face would not look too pleased.

Cold cucumber salad and sugar tomato salad were never seen on the Lockwood Family’s table.

To Adrian, they were as unforgivable as preserved vegetables.

Signifying a lack of heart in daily meals.

Representing carelessness in life.

What’s Serena supposed to do?

Just remove those dishes from the recipes.

"Really delicious!"

As Wyatt pushes the bowl and chopsticks away.

Serena snaps back to reality.

She sees Wyatt comfortably leaning back in the dining chair, looking at her with clear, harmless eyes, "It’s been so long since I’ve had such a comforting meal... Thanks, senior sister!"

"I’m glad you like it!"

Serena smiles.

She gets up, collects the bowls and chopsticks, and puts them into the dishwasher.

Casually wipes the dining table.

Turns to ask him, "Want some fruit?"

As Wyatt hesitates, Serena turns and opens the refrigerator.

A dazzling array of fruits, vibrant and colorful.

Serena picks a few of each type, washes them clean under running water, and arranges them neatly on a fruit platter.

Brings it and places it on the island counter.

The empty villa in the depths of night suddenly becomes bright with the platter of red, yellow, orange, and green fruits.

Wyatt quietly watches Serena, busy like a little bee.

Picks up a lime from the fruit platter.

Brings it to his nose, inhaling the delicate fragrance.

The scent gently floats into his heart.

Indescribably comfortable.

Raising his eyes again, he sees Serena returning with medicine from the first aid kit, placing it in his hand, "Take your medicine and get some rest, by morning you’ll feel much better."

If he continues for two more meals, he should be fully recovered.

Though Wyatt, by his habits, probably won’t eat, but just endure a couple more days.

He’ll still recover.

Serena doesn’t nag anymore.

Watching Wyatt take the medicine, her eyes inquire, "Good night?"

Wyatt’s temperament appears much livelier than when she first arrived.

He nods warmly, "Good night."

Seeing Serena going upstairs, Wyatt calls out, "Senior sister, the guest room on the second floor hasn’t been used, and the bedding has been changed. If you don’t mind, you can sleep there."

Of course she doesn’t mind.

She goes to the home theater on the third floor to grab her phone.

Serena goes downstairs to the guest room on the second floor.

Matching the living room’s lemon scent.

The pillow and blanket still retain the faint fragrance of sunlight.

She activates her phone to confirm the alarm, seeing Adrian’s missed calls and texts illuminated.

Three missed calls from an hour ago.

Finding no answer, Adrian sends a few texts over.

[Serena, where’s the first aid kit?]

[My stomach hurts, looking for antacid.]

[Serena?]