Chapter 200 The Birthday
Extracting her cellphone from the pocket of her skirt, she cast a fleeting glance at the date, and a memory stirred—it was his birthday. A realization that filled her with guilt; she had forgotten. In the preceding years at the Harrington Family estate, the anticipation of his birthday would start days in advance. However, since she had moved out, no one had brought it up, and it had slipped her mind.
Pondering over it, she questioned her feelings for him. Could she truly like him as much as she thought if she could forget his birthday? The thought brought a peculiar lightness to her mood.
"Indeed, today is Mr. Alexander's birthday. It's no surprise you forgot, he's been away for years. But now that Mr. Alexander is finally back home, we should do our utmost to make him feel welcome," the nanny chimed in, her hand gently guiding her towards the kitchen.
Victoria Kensington, however, was hesitant. "Nanny, I'd rather not, I'm no cook."
The nanny's confidence was unwavering. "Don't worry, as long as it's made by you, Mr. Alexander will surely appreciate it."
And so, under the nanny's tutelage, Victoria embarked on her culinary journey. "I'll guide you, you'll get it right on the first try," the nanny assured her.
Victoria chuckled at the nanny's optimism, her own confidence far from matching. Soon, she found herself covered in flour, a white flag of surrender almost within reach. She had even forgotten about her work. If she couldn't manage to roll out noodles, what else could she possibly do?
Memories of her father attempting to cook, purely to please her mother, surfaced. Each time he would emerge from the kitchen, covered in flour, proudly proclaiming to his wife engrossed in the newspaper, "Honey, hang tight, we'll be eating in no time." His goofy grin would follow her glance. Some men, she mused, loved to show off in front of their wives.
Emboldened by her memories and online tutorials, she committed herself to the task. The first batch of noodles was a success. They were thicker than normal, not due to her lack of skill, but because the nanny insisted that a hearty bite was part of the appeal.
As the pot of noodles began to boil, Victoria decided to taste one. Sprinkled with chopped scallions, the aroma was delightful. But then...
"Good morning," a familiar voice greeted.
"Morning," she replied, barely managing to bite off a piece of noodle before she was interrupted.
Alexander Harrington, noticing the flour dusting her face, approached with long, graceful strides. He reached out to clean her face, his voice soft, "What happened?"
She had completely forgotten she was cooking birthday noodles for him.
"Good morning, Mr. Alexander, happy birthday! Mrs. Harrington has prepared these special birthday noodles for you. We're about to eat," the nanny announced, turning off the stove and serving the noodles.
Alexander Harrington remained before her, continuing to clean her face, his voice curious, "You know how to make homemade noodles?"
"I... well," she chuckled awkwardly but politely. Her culinary skills were limited to frying English muffin slices. This was a first for her.
A first time? Oh no, not another first time.
Victoria looked up at him, her gaze inadvertently meeting his deep, dark eyes, her heart skipping a beat.
"Let me try," he said, picking up the partially bitten noodle from her bowl.
His handsome brows furrowed as he examined the chunky noodle on his fork, "Doesn't seem cooked?"
That was certainly awkward.
Victoria looked down and noticed the middle of the noodle was still white—a sign it wasn't cooked? In her uncertainty, she turned to the nanny, who had already served the bowls, and whispered, "Nanny, is it undercooked?"
Alexander Harrington's dark eyes were fixed intently on her...
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