My coldhearted ex demands a remarriage - Chapter 184

Chapter 184:

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Meanwhile, Kristopher, relegated to the bed, watched her with a mix of annoyance and dismay, his features clouding over with frustration. The room fell silent briefly before a gentle knocking at the door broke the quiet.

The soft sound was followed by Melany’s voice. “Carrie, are you guys still awake?” Her inquiry seemed laced with anticipation, as if she were about to unearth some intimate secret about their evening.

Carrie let out a weary sigh, her patience worn thin by Melany’s persistent intrusiveness. Despite Melany’s wishes for familial peace, Carrie resolved that this time she would not sacrifice her own comfort.

“Melany, we’re up,” she called out with a resigned tone, setting aside her phone and rising from the sofa’s embrace. As she approached the door, it swung open.

Melany surveyed her with a fleeting glance. Spotting her fully clothed, Melany’s expression fell to one of palpable disappointment, her hand flapping dismissively in the air. A maid promptly emerged, bearing a tray.

Melany forced a smile, presenting the offerings. “I’ve brought some honey milk for Kristopher and a bowl of milk with fish maw for you, Carrie. It’s sure to ensure a restful night.”

“Thanks, Melany,” Carrie responded, accepting the tray.

Melany wasted no time in securing the door behind her, locking it swiftly as if to prevent any chance of Carrie slipping away.

With a resigned chuckle, Carrie proceeded into the room, placing the honey milk on the bedside table beside Kristopher. “Melany made this especially for you,” she remarked.

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She retreated to the couch, cradling her bowl of milk steeped with fish maw. The delicacy, a luxury far removed from her usual pantry staples, mingled perfectly with the fresh milk and a hint of rock sugar, devoid of any briny aftertaste. Soft and decadently smooth, it stood in stark contrast to the cheap instant versions she had stocked.

The thrill of having money was intoxicating, and she made up her mind to hustle hard to achieve this independence once again.

Kristopher eyed her curiously, extending his hand. “Is it as delightful as it looks? May I try?” His usual indifference to culinary pleasures seemed to falter, piqued by her evident enjoyment.

Carrie brushed off Kristopher’s request. “No way, drink your own.” She then promptly devoured the last bits of fish maw with hurried enthusiasm.

Kristopher paused, absorbing the rebuff. Then, in a fluid motion, he gulped down the hangover soup next to him, placing the bowl back on the table with a faint clatter that betrayed his irritation. “If anyone saw how you guard your food, they might think the Norris family doesn’t feed you well,” he remarked.

His choice of words was deliberate; he had almost likened her actions to those of a dog guarding its meal but thought better of it at the last second.

Full yet somehow restless, Carrie longed to take a shower and drift off to sleep, but Kristopher’s presence in the room made that uncomfortable.

Instead, she distracted herself by flicking through videos on her phone. However, focusing proved difficult. A strange warmth was spreading through her, distracting and intense.

She hitched up her skirt to expose her legs to the cool evening air, hoping to alleviate the discomfort, but the heat only deepened.

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