âLyndon, about Sheldon⦠I need to tell youâ Tilda began, her voice faltering as she grappled with her doubts.
Was she being selfish by keeping this secret? Should she tell him the truth that Sheldon was his biological son?
Lyndon, having overheard bits of Sheldonâs concerns, turned to her with a reassuring smile.
âListen, Iâve always seen Sheldon as my own.
When we return, if anyone dares to question his place in our family or treats him with anything less than respect, theyâll have me to answer to,â he declared firmly.
Tildaâs resolve waned under his confident assurance.
Maybe it was not yet the time to reveal everything.
Lyndon, sensing the shift in her mood, returned to the kitchen and came back with another set of utensils.
âNeed some help eating?â he asked gently, ready to ease even the smallest burden.
Tilda met Lyndonâs smiling gaze, a blush creeping up her neck.
âI can do it myself,â she insisted.
There was no need for him to assist her with eating.
Her hands were perfectly functional.
âButââ Lyndon began.
âIâm not being stubborn.
See, I can feed myself,â Tilda interrupted.
Bothered by the thought of him pressing the issue, she clumsily ate a spoonful of noodles, chewing rapidly.
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Library
Lyndonâs eyes sparkled with amusement as he placed a bowl of soup in front of her.
âTake your time,â he advised gently, his voice a soothing balm.
Tilda swallowed the noodles, feeling herself act somewhat foolish.
She couldnât deny a flicker of irritation.
Her uncharacteristic behavior around Lyndon felt alien.
Where was the calm, composed woman she usually was?
A thought struck her like a bolt of lightning.
Love has the power to change individuals from their typical selves.
It certainly described her current state perfectly.