Realizing what he meant, her cheeks turned even redder with anger.

She glared at him, “Can’t you speak properly?”

“No!” Theodore huffed, puffed up like a pufferfish.

“You!” Phoebe was at her wit’s end with him, glaring with eyes that, in her mind, wielded a forty-meter greatsword to slice him into watermelon, just to ease her anger a bit.

Theodore smirked triumphantly, his expression akin to a child’s taunt. ‘If you don’t like it, try and stop me it was elementary school level taunting. Phoebe was speechless.

Mrs. Reynolds looked from her son to her daughter-in-law, seeing their childish yet adorable quarrel, she figured she didn’t need to worry – there was no way these two would split up.

Vanessa came out carrying the rice and caught a glimpse of the harmonious scene in the living room. A twinge of unease pierced her heart.

It felt as though she was the nanny, merely there to cook for this family of three.

Her eyes dimmed as she addressed Mrs. Reynolds, “Aunt, dinner’s ready. Theodore, would you mind bringing out the soup for me?”

Vanessa’s invitation was strategic, placing Theodore squarely in her camp. It was a subtle declaration that she was not a hired hand in the kitchen, but rather the gracious hostess of the gathering. “Sure,” Theodore agreed obediently, making his way to the kitchen.

Phoebe’s heart turned bitter as she watched him. Was he ever this compliant around her? Certainly not.

He was usually full of backhanded comments, stubborn and contrary, frequently clashing with her. Of course, she couldn’t really ask anything of him; not even carrying hot soup, for fear he’d spill it on her in spite.

This, Phoebe mused, must be the difference between love and indifference. Theodore adored Vanessa, shielding her from any hint of danger. However, toward her, he was indifferent, unconcerned with what hazards might befall her. Returning with clean hands to the dining room, she found the table set, with Theodore already settled in his chair, and Vanessa standing by his side, evidently waiting for her to be seated. Vanessa’s intentions were clear. She wanted to be beside Theodore.

Intending to avoid a tug-of-war over seating, Phoebe started towards the opposite side when Mrs. Reynolds interjected, “Vanessa, come sit by me. We’ll have a chat.”

Just as Vanessa was about to sit down, a fleeting look of surprise crossed her face at Mrs. Reynolds’s words, but she complied, “Oh, of course.”

Despite the small size of the table where everyone could hear each other without whispering, Mrs. Reynolds’s request meant Vanessa had to circle the table to take her place.

Meanwhile, Mrs. Reynolds gently nudged Phoebe toward Theodore. As Phoebe pulled out her chair and settled down, she turned to Vanessa, “You’ve worked hard today, Vanessa. Theodore, it’s not right to let our guest take care of the cooking.”

“Aunt, I was happy to cook, truly. Don’t blame Theodore. He just spoils me,” Vanessa replied, taking a bite of her food and gazing tenderly at Theodore across the table.

Phoebe felt a wave of irritation at Vanessa’s words and the coy exchanges between the two. Her recently swallowed food seemed stuck in her throat, making her uncomfortably choke.

She reached for her glass of water, which helped to wash down the food, but it did little to ease her growing discomfort.

At that moment, Theodore sipped his cream of potato soup, contentedly nodding his approval, “The potato soup is delicious-just like I remember.”

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