Chapter 407

Chapter 407 Table Salt

In Cherise’s memory, every detail from the previous day played out like a vivid scene. She couldn’t help

but blush, her face resembling a blazing crimson sunset, yet she nodded with a sweet smile and said, “I

could use a little something to eat.”

“I’ll make some pasta for you,” the man offered.

He responded with a warm smile and gracefully made room for her. On the bedside table behind. him

sat a plate of bolognese meatball pasta.

Cherise gazed at the dish and then back at Damien. “Did you… make this?”

It was evident that this was his first attempt at preparing a meal for her.

“Yes,” he confirmed.

A sheepish chuckle escaped him. “I gave it a try; it might not be as good as your cooking, but it’s

edible.”

Cherise found herself in stunned silence. Her eyes widened in disbelief. He… actually cooked for

me?

Damien, having been born into a life of privilege, had never felt the need to enter the kitchen, let alone

acquire cooking skills, as he always had cooks and helpers at his disposal.

Even after their marriage, their house had never been without a chef. He was the kind of who never

went near the kitchen.

person

But now… Cherise took a deep breath, picked up her fork, and took a bite. It was decent, though it

seemed he had forgotten to add salt.

“I’ll get some salt; it’s a bit bland,” she said, trying to get out of bed.

However, Damien raised his hand to stop her. “Let me do it.” He double-checked, “You want salt,

right?” Cherise nodded.

The man rose from his seat and quickly made his way downstairs.

In less than a minute, he returned with a bottle of table salt and handed it to her.

Cherise hurriedly added some salt to her pasta and gave it a stir. However, there was an

unexpected sweetness to the taste.

Perplexed, she took a pinch from the small bottle of salt Damien had handed her, and it, too, turned out

to be sweet. It was sugar!

She couldn’t help but laugh at the irony. Sugar again!

1/2

Taking a deep breath, she got out of bed. “I think I’ll get the salt myself.”

Damien reached out and placed a hand on her arm. “I’ll go. What do you need?”

Cherise furrowed her brow. While his sudden culinary efforts were surprising, he seemed particularly

helpful today, and a vague sense of foreboding began to creep into her heart.

With a deep breath, she gently pushed his hand away. “It’s okay. I can handle it.”

And with that, she hurried downstairs, wearing pink bunny slippers.

As expected, when Cherise reached downstairs, she detected a strong burnt smell wafting from the

kitchen.

Cherise furrowed her brow and followed the source of the odor.

What she found wasn’t a kitchen; it was a war zone. Utensils were scattered everywhere, and even the

once-sturdy iron pots had been reduced to charred ruins. The trash can was overflowing with black and

yellow, egg-shaped casualties.

Cherise turned her gaze toward the man standing near the stairs.

Damien cleared his throat, a tinge of embarrassment on his face. “I was taking the trash out, but then I

heard you calling from upstairs, so I hurried back.”

Cherise stood there in stunned silence, her eyes fixed on the chaotic kitchen.

He had wrecked more than just the eggs she saw….

She could practically feel her temples throbbing.

Taking the salt, Cherise headed back upstairs to finish her meal. She then tied on an apron and began

the challenging task of cleaning up the kitchen.

Initially, Damien tried to help. However, each time he approached the kitchen, Cherise gently redirected

him to the sofa.

“Focus on your own responsibilities, and I’ll handle this mess.”

“You can participate in a video conference with your colleagues or listen to their phone updates.”

“No need to interfere in the kitchen“