“Don‘t be ridiculous,” Stella replied, her expressions unchanged. “Joan‘s a professional. Of
course her cooking is better than mine!” Weston could sense that she didn‘t want to talk about this any
further, so he said, “I‘m glad you like Joan‘s cooking.” “Oh, yeah!” she echoed, not hesitating to heap
praise upon Joan. “She really is an incredible cook!”
Stella had always loved piquant and savory food, but her stomach would start to churn if she ate too
much spicy food. She typically avoided it if she could, especially now after her miscarriage, where she
had basically lost all interest in food and ate just to stay alive.
Seeing that Stella was happily enjoying the soup, Weston gently caressed her cheek with his fingers and
teased; “Hey, I‘m the patient here. Shouldn‘t you be feeding me?”
“There aren‘t any rules about patients needing to be fed!” she disputed. “You only have a cold! Your
hands are perfectly fine! Feed yourself!” It was clear that Stella had no desire to feed him, but Weston did
not falter. “You mean you‘d feed me if I hurt my hands, right?”
Stella‘s eyes darted towards Weston and she stared at him in horror as though terrified that he would
really do something so ridiculous. After hesitating for a while, she put down the spoon and bowl in her
hands and picked up the other bowl. She stirred the soup and scooped up pieces of meat and brought it
near Weston‘s mouth.
“I believe it‘s not too hot anymore,” she said. “Go on.” “How do you know it‘s not too hot when you didn‘t
even blow it?”
Stella was speechless.
Weston loved teasing her this way. He loved seeing her getting annoyed and bothered. It made her seem
vivacious and amusing. “Hurry up,” he urged, stroking her forehead. “I‘m hungry!” Stella reluctantly drew
the spoon close to her mouth and gently blew on it, then nudged it back towards Weston.
“There! Happy now?”
With a mischievous smile, Weston finally drank the soup. He eventually finished half of the bowl, with
Stella feeding him by the spoonful. The soup smelled so appetizing that it made Stella‘s mouth water.
She got hungrier and hungrier until suddenly, her stomach growled. She turned crimson red. She took a
peek at Weston, praying that he didn‘t hear it.
But luck was not on her side.
Weston glanced at her stomach with a half–smile and asked, “Are you hungry?” “Didn‘t I just tell you that
I was hungry?” Stella mumbled shyly, her eyes staring at the floor. Then she looked at the bowl of soup
and added, “There‘s only a little bit left. Come on, hurry up and finish it!” Weston said nothing. He picked
up Stella‘s bowl and scooped up some soup, gave it a blow, and nudged it towards her.
“Eat up,” he told her. “What?” she frowned. “My hands are fine! I don‘t need you to feed me!” “Stop
complaining!” Weston snapped. “I‘ve already scooped some for you, so just eat it.” Stella stared at him,
speechless. When did Weston become so childish? Did he really want them to feed each other? What
exactly was he thinking? But he stubbornly held the spoon next to her mouth with a look in his eyes that
said he would never give up until she gave in.
So Stella had no choice but to just open her mouth and eat the soup.
At that moment she saw a playful twinkle in Weston‘s eyes. It stunned her. She had never seen him this
lighthearted before. In fact, she also sensed that there was an inscrutable change in their relationship.
But Stella did not wish for this change to happen. “I‘m full,” she announced, suddenly putting the bowl
down and standing up. “Get Joan te clear these bowls out once you‘re done. I‘m a little busy right now
and I must go.” She then rushed out of the door right after speaking. Weston‘s eyes followed her as she
left. The glimmer in his eyes dimmed.
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