Chapter 0066
Hannah
The director was a kind, rosy-cheeked woman in her mid-fifties who introduced herself as Margaret. She beamed
at Noah andas she led the way inside the orphanage, chattering about the facility's history and her
dedication to providing the children with a warm, loving home.
I only half-listened, to be honest, too busy sneaking sidelong glances at Noah out of the corner of my eye. As
promised, the slightly mangled paper crown was still perched on top of his head, although he kept reaching up to
adjust it self-consciously every few minutes.
Unable to help myself, | bit the inside of my cheek to stifle a grin. He looked utterly mortified beneath that silly
hat, his shoulders hunched and his gaze fixed firmly on the floor in front of him.
It was... well, kind of cute, in an odd way. Like a surly teenager accompanying his parents on a dreaded family
outing.
Only instead of his mother, | was his wife. | wondered, as we wandered the orphanage, if | had ever even seen
him be silly during our years of marriage. | certainly couldn't remember a time.
What was marriage if we couldn't be silly together?
After a few minutes of touring the common areas and playrooms, the director paused to turn and face us with a
bright smile. “And this next area is-oh!”
My stomach chose that precise moment to let out a long, pitiful grumble, the noisy rumble echoing loudly in the
tiled hallway. 1 flushed a deep shade of red, quickly moving my hand to cover my stomach. Unfortunately, after
my bout of morning sickness, | hadn't had the tor the stomach to eat the breakfast my handmaid had
brought me.
The director, however, seemed utterly unbothered; perhaps spending the better part of your day with kids does
that to you.
“It sounds like someone is in need of a meal,” the director said with a warm smile. “It's about lunchtime: would
Follow on NovᴇlEnglish.nᴇtyou liketo have the kitchen prepare you something, Luna Hannah?”
“Oh no, there's no need-" | started, keenly aware of Noah's suddenly sharp gaze boring into the side of my head.
“But
you
have to eat, Luna Hannah!” one of the little girls, an adorable six-year-old with bright red pigtails and a button
nose, piped up as she began tugging insistently at my skirt. “Grownups gotta eat too!”
A chorus of childish agreement rose up all aroundas the rest of the kids chimed in, their pleas swiftly
becoming too impassioned to wave off. It seemed as though they were hungry as well-or at least, the promise of
food made them think they were hungry.
| shot the director a helpless look, but she simply laughed and held up her hands in a placating gesture. “Well, it
seems you've been overruled. I'll have the kitchen staff prepare some-”
Suddenly, | had an idea. “Actually,” | cut her off firmly, raising my hand, “if it's not too much trouble, would you
mind if | handled the cooking myself? | like to cook.”
Dead silence answered me. The director gaped at me, clearly stunned, while Noah let out a loud bark of
Chapter 0066
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laughter from behind me. | whirled on him, bristling at the mocking gleam in his eyes. “What's so funny, dear?” |
asked, plastering a fake smile on my face.
Noah smirked at me, that infuriatingly smug look | knew so well settling onto his chiseled features. What's with
you and cooking lately?” he teased, then leaned over to address the director. “Hannah rarely cooks.”
My nostrils flared with indignation at Noah's tone; he was clearly trying to keep his tone light as though he were
merely teasing me, but | knew better. Still, | kept my smile on my face as | turned back to face the director.
“It's true; | don’t cook often,” | admitted. “But lately, I've been developing more of an interest in it. And I'd love
to prepare something for the children.”
From behind me, | could feel Noah's gaze boring intoagain. But the director simply nodded and shot both of
us a warm smile.
“I think it sounds fun,” she said. “And it'll be an excellent chance to show you our cooking facilities.”
With that, the director turned and made her way down the hall. | followed, casting one last glance at Noah out of
the corner of my eye. He had fallen silent.
The kitchen was spacious yet cozy at the stime, with clean granite countertops and vintage, but functional,
appliances. | immediately felt at hthere, like | had just stepped into my grandmother's kitchen.
“Well then,” | said, clapping my hands together and turning to face the children. “How does everyone like
spaghetti?”
Before long, the scent of aromatic pasta sauce and freshly baked bread was wafting through the kitchen,
practically making my mouth water, | chopped vegetables on a cutting board, delegating tasks to the workers
around me.
Noah, of course, did not lift a finger to help. But he made sure to stay right in the doorway, watching with an
unreadable expression on his face.
| chose to ignore him.
By the tthe director poked her head in to check on our progress, | already had the pasta sauce simmering on
the stove and the bread proofing on the counter. When her jaw dropped at the sight of the neat rows of unbaked
loaves, | couldn’t help but shoot Noah a smug little smile of my own.
“See? | told you. I've been reading a lot of recipes lately”
To my surprise, Noah simply shrugged one shoulder, his eyes flickering almost begrudgingly toward the stove
where the sauce was simmering. “I guess | stand corrected.”
Pleased pride surged throughat his admission. Obviously, he was still far too full of pride and stubborn as
hell to apologize... at least, not in front of anyone else.
It was less than an hour later when I strode into the cafeteria, Noah on my heels and a tray loaded with heaping
bowls of pasta and several loaves of fresh bread balanced carefully in my hands.
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Follow on Novᴇl-Onlinᴇ.cᴏmChapter 0066
The director ushered us to one of the long tables near the front, Noah and I settling in at the head while the rest
of the seats rapidly filled up around us. | found myself flanked on either side by a gaggle of giggling little girls, all
of them gazing up atin open adoration.
Digging into my own bowl, | couldn't help but glance over at Noah to gauge his reaction. He had already made a
sizable dent in the food on his plate, shoveling forkfuls of pasta into his mouth like his life depended on it-not at
all like the way he ate at the family banquet when Zoe did most of the cooking “Wow,” | prompted, unable to
hide my growing smirk. “It can’t be that bad if you're eating so quickly.”
Noah paused mid-bite, his cheeks coloring slightly as he caughtwatching him. The children closest to
erupted into laughter, clearly picking up on my implied teasing.
us
For one heart-stopping moment, | wondered if he was going to cup with snew scathing retort, or
maybe even get up and leave.
But he didn’t.
Instead, he simply sighed and gave a nod, stabbing another piece of pasta with his fork.
“Alright, | take back what | said,” he conceded gruffly. “You are a good cook, Hannah.”
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