Chapter 14 Go make breakfast for me！
Natalie started in surprise.
She couldn't help but notice Oliver's long, powerful fingers, their distinct knuckles giving them a striking appearance.
However, one glaring omission caught her eye—his left ring finger was conspicuously bare of a wedding band.
In contrast, her own right ring finger was adorned with a pink diamond ring.
Instinctively, Natalie tightened her right hand, feeling a stab of inequality. She yearned to remove her wedding ring, yet she couldn't.
On Oliver's plate sat an array of sandwiches, goose liver pâté, scrambled eggs, and a cheese soufflé. A beautifully arranged platter of fruits garnished the side, accompanied by a cup of black coffee.
Oliver took a hefty gulp of the black coffee, his brows furrowing as a familiar pain nestled in his stomach.
The clutches of moderate anorexia seized him, rendering every mouthful of food tasteless, like wax dissolving on his tongue. Over time, it had culminated in the manifestation of a stomach ailment.
Natalie observed Oliver's discomfort, noticing his left hand gently massaging his stomach.
He helped her last night, so she urged him, "Oliver, skipping breakfast or consuming coffee on an empty stomach isn't good for your health."
Oliver looked up, his eyes brimming with frost and mockery. "Who are you to dictate my actions? My wife?"
Oliver's morning temper was notoriously vicious.
"I... I heard that you're frail and sickly."
'Serves you right!' Natalie thought.
Biting her lip lightly, Natalie looked down, revealing her discontent and a hint of melancholy.
Oliver knew she silently reproached him in her heart. Leaning his tall, upright frame against the chair, he commanded, "Go make breakfast for me!"
"What?" Natalie thought she misheard.
"Can't you? Well then, you can't eat."
'Don't you wanna show off?
'I'm granting you an opportunity,' Oliver thought.
Deliberately making things difficult, Oliver underestimated Natalie. As a Watson raised in a wealthy family, he assumed she had been accustomed to the runway and had never set foot in a kitchen.
Natalie could discern from Oliver's expression that he thought she couldn't prepare anything decent. She gritted her teeth in frustration. "Fine, I'll do it!"
Unbeknownst to Oliver, cooking was Natalie's forte.
Natalie possessed another identity—a food blogger boasting millions of followers, each one an active fan fervently awaiting her next creation.
Within a mere ten minutes, Natalie deftly crafted a nourishing plate of sopas that would've left any gourmet salivating.
The hearty mix featured tender morsels of chicken, aromatic sautéed garlic and onions, and a vibrant medley of fresh vegetables. To elevate the flavor, she added a pinch of crushed black pepper and a subtle hint of ginger. The rich broth, steeped in the essence of chicken stock, rendered the sopas both soul-warming and nurturing.
Presented in an elegant white plate, the dish was a feast for both the eyes and the nose.
"You expect me to eat this?" Oliver's face darkened at the sight of the seemingly disorganized plate of food.
"Oliver, please give it a chance. I assure you, it's delectable and nourishing!" Natalie interjected before Oliver could dismiss the plate.
As a food blogger, she yearned for more people to relish her culinary masterpieces. Simultaneously, as Oliver's nominal wife, she harbored a desire to ingratiate herself with him.
Despite its unprepossessing appearance, the "disorderly-looking food" exuded a robust aroma that tantalized the senses. The soft and fragrant macaroni, the rich egg flavor, the vibrancy of the vegetables, and the alluring aroma of the meat all coalesced harmoniously into a symphony of flavors.
For a fleeting moment, Oliver hesitated. Surprisingly, he refrained from delivering a brusque dismissal and instead reached for the spoon. He scrutinized the "disorderly-looking food" for several seconds, as though mentally grappling with its potential awfulness.
Upon tasting the soup, he was met with an explosion of richness and flavor. The macaroni, eggs, and vegetables effortlessly dissolved on his tongue, requiring only minimal chewing for the meat cubes, which brought an unexpected sense of satisfaction.
There was even a subtle sweetness lingering in the aftertaste.
A surge of unfamiliar emotions flickered in Oliver's eyes.
This taste bore an uncanny resemblance to the flavors of the meals prepared by that young girl from his past!
He looked up and stared intently at Natalie as if hiding intense feelings.
"How did you make this?" Oliver abruptly seized Natalie's wrist.
"I-I learned it online." Natalie, taken aback by his reaction, hesitated to reveal that she had been skilled in the kitchen since her youth.
Oliver relinquished his hold on her hand, the motion barely perceptible.
With his gaze averted, Oliver attempted to cloak his disappointment and sarcasm. The notion that Natalie could be the girl from that bygone year was simply preposterous!
"So, what do you think? Do you enjoy it?" Natalie inquired nervously as she couldn't tell what he was thinking about, her voice laced with anticipation.
Oliver's stoic face rendered his thoughts impenetrable to Natalie.
The sound of fragile ceramics shattered the silence.
Oliver discarded the spoon into the plate, his countenance reverting to its usual impassivity. "It's lacking in flavor."
Lacking in flavor?
How could that be?
Natalie wondered whether she had erred somehow.
Filled with skepticism, she tentatively tasted a spoonful of the sopas from her own plate. "I find it quite palatable."
Her exquisitely delicate skin, paired with her tongue, resembled the most tempting strawberry. She had a face that captured a unique blend of purity and seductive charm, where every gesture she made radiated an undeniable allure.
Her lips were still burning due to an intense kiss yesterday.
Oliver furrowed his brow, his gaze sharp. "Return to your room."
"If you don't wish to eat it, that's not my concern!" Natalie fumed, stomping upstairs to her room.
Oliver folded his hands and fixed his gaze on the plate in front of him.
To be fair, it wasn't unattractive. The hues blended quite harmoniously. It simply lacked the sophistication of the refined meals he was used to. Though, it was certainly more appealing than the plain sopas of his memories.
Eventually, Oliver lifted the spoon once more and took a generous mouthful of the sopas.
The enduring sweetness was like a desert mirage, echoing the flavors of bygone years. It soothed his morning vexations and banished his food aversion.
"Replicate this." Oliver's command induced a quiver in the head chef's hands.
He actually requested a five-star chef to prepare such a homely dish, unfit for an elegant presentation!
Despite the chef's inner grumblings, however, compliance was necessary.
Ten minutes later, a plate of aromatic sopas was presented, nearly indistinguishable from the one Natalie had made.
Oliver tasted it.
It was devoid of flavor.
He then savored the one Natalie made, and it was delightful and alluring.
Oliver never anticipated that the food concocted by a five-star hotel chef would fail to stimulate his appetite, while the meal prepared by his wife proved astonishingly captivating.
Upon reaching her room, Natalie realized she had forgotten to bring her breakfast with her. She was starving.
After hesitating for a moment, she decided to swiftly go downstairs to fetch it.
She endeavored to limit her exposure to Oliver's company to a mere moment!
With her heart pounding, Natalie approached the dining room and was rendered speechless by the sight before her.
The sopas that Oliver had derided as "disorderly-looking food" was nearly finished. He had scorned it mere minutes ago, but he was now enjoying it spoonful by spoonful.
"Who granted you permission to come downstairs?" Oliver glanced over, his face grim, his expression unreadable, as if indicating a storm.
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