âHey Greta, looks like weâre practically the same shoe size. Why donât you take my flip-flops home with you?â
Greta didnât respond immediately.
Morwenna, worried that Greta was concerned about leaving her barefoot, quickly added, âYou know, I spent my childhood running around barefoot in the countryside, wading through streams, and climbing hills without any trouble. Itâs not far back to the dorm from here. I can walk back barefoot, no problem at all.â
But Greta wasnât concerned about that. It was just her nature; she never took anything from anyone without giving back much more in return.
Thatâs why people in the Rosefrost Hollow clique were always eager to do her favors, scheming to create opportunities to give her things.
But no one had ever dared to offer Greta their used flip-flops.
The eldest daughter of the Irons family wearing someone elseâs cast-offs? Unthinkable.
However, after a brief pause, Greta slipped on Morwennaâs flip-flops, saying, âThanks, then. I'll head off now. Bye.â
Morwenna waved with a smile, âBye, take care, Greta.â
As Greta walked away, she did so with elegance, even in borrowed flip-flops.
After seeing Greta off, Morwenna hurried back to the dorm.
The night owls of the dorm were all doing their own thing, and Morwenna quietly let Keira know she was back.
She only had that one pair of flip-flops, so she rinsed her feet and made do with her old sandals.
She was running a bit late today, and just as she finished up and hadnât yet climbed into bed, her phone buzzed with a call from Stuart.
Scrambling onto her bed, she accidentally banged her arm against the bed frame and winced in pain.
âWhatâs wrong?â
âNothing, just bumped my arm.â
âDonât rush, I can wait,â he said gently.
Morwenna felt her cheeks warm. âOkay.â
She settled in and drew the curtains closed.
Stuart began reading an English story, and Morwenna picked up her knitting, working on a sweater.
The fine cashmere yarn would eventually become a man's sweater, each stitch filled with Morwennaâs tender affection.
Tonightâs story was a fairy tale.
But Stuartâs lazy, mature voice made Morwennaâs mind wander. She could easily picture him, lounging back in his chair, certainly not all buttoned up, a playful glint in his eye.
Morwennaâs thoughts drifted to the things Greta had taught her, and she couldnât help but fantasize.
Listening to Stuartâs voice, she imagined unbuttoning his shirt, biting his storytelling lips, holding his page-turning hands.
She felt if this went on any longer, sheâd be in trouble.
His voice, through the phone, seemed to beckon her.
Morwenna had always found Stuart irresistibly charming.
Hearing Gretaâs advice only fueled her daydreams.
Swallowing hard, Morwenna blurted out, âUncle.â
Stuart stopped, his voice now husky from reading, âWhatâs up?â
Startled back to reality, Morwenna stammered, âNo... nothing...â
Stuart chuckled softly, his laugh now sounding even more beguiling.
âUncle, I... Iâm going to sleep, goodnight.â
âAlright, goodnight.â
Morwenna hung up as if fleeing, taking deep breaths, her hands covering her face.
Then she noticed the sweater sheâd been knitting had several dropped stitches.
Sighing, she realized sheâd have to unravel and start over.
How the Ice King Became my Doting Billionaire Husband ï¤Chapter 285 My Beloved Has Risen from Death's Embrace ï¤Chapter 492 Stuart was indeed a charmer!
Even over the phone, he had a way of bewitching her.