Chapter 2537: Chapter 2542

“Come on, get up.

You need to go see Rosalynn, remember?” Tilda urged, her tone gentle yet insistent.

Lyndon grunted in acknowledgment, tossing aside the covers with a brisk motion before swinging his legs out of bed.

Tilda hesitated briefly, then added, “Do you mind if I come along to visit Rosalynn?”

“Of course you can come,” Lyndon replied without hesitation as he fetched the clothes his mother had set out for Tilda.

He laid them neatly on the bed, then tenderly brushed her hair back from her forehead and planted a soft kiss there.

“As long as you promise not to get jealous,” he whispered teasingly.

Tilda bit her lip.

“Do you really think I’m that petty?”

Lyndon chuckled, his eyes crinkling with affection.

“Not at all.

My wife is the most generous woman I _ know, he assured her, his tone light and flattering as he helped her out of the covers and began helping her dress.

”

The warmth of his fingers as they brushed against her skin soothed Tilda’s initial unease.

This wasn’t their first such morning.

She had grown to appreciate his caring gestures.

As Lyndon made a move to lift her from the bed, Tilda quickly slipped out on the other side, asserting her independence.

“I can walk by myself, thank you.

”

Lyndon raised an eyebrow playfully.

“Are you sure you don’t need me to carry you downstairs?”

“No, I’m fine on my own,” Tilda insisted firmly.

A mischievous glint appeared in Lyndon’s eyes.

“Careful, or you’ll make me doubt my own strength.

”

Tilda glared at him, her cheeks tinged with pink.

“There’s no need for doubts.

I’m quite certain your strength is perfectly sufficient!”

“Is that a compliment I hear?” Lyndon’s grin widened.

“I love hearing your compliments, honey.

”

Ignoring his teasing, Tilda blushed deeper and hurried into the bathroom to freshen up.

They then headed downstairs together.

Downstairs, Brea was having fun with Sheldon.

Upon seeing Tilda and Lyndon descend, Brea greeted them with a warm smile.

“Did you have a good night’s sleep?”

A wave of discomfort washed over Tilda.

“I’m sorry for waking up late, Brea.

”

“It’s alright, dear.

You’re injured.

More rest is better for you,” Brea reassured her, completely unconcerned.

Tilda felt a pang of guilt— her tardiness wasn’t due to her injuries but rather the passionate night she shared with Lyndon.

She avoided Brea’s eyes, feeling undeserving of her understanding.

“You must be hungry by now.

There’s food still warm in the kitchen—go ahead and eat,” Brea encouraged, her voice filled with maternal warmth.