Faced with her usation, Lionel had no response. He simply closed his mouth and remained silent.


    The elevator descended into a heavy, suffocating stillness.


    Hannah closed her eyes, her lips trembling. After a moment, she shoved against his chest, trying to break free. But Lionel wouldn''t let her go. He only held her tighter.


    It wasn''t until the elevator doors opened in the parking garage that he finally released her, his hand firmly gripping hers as he led her to the car.


    The drive home was silent. Hannah stared out the window, her expression nk, as if she had no more tears left to cry.


    Lionel kept ncing over at her, her quiet stillness gnawing at him.


    When they arrived home, he asked, "Have you eaten?"


    "Quennel took me to dinner at the rooftop garden," she said, intentionally trying to provoke him.


    To her surprise, Lionel chuckled. He saw the defiant look on her face, like a petnt child trying to make him jealous.


    "Well, I haven''t," he said. "I haven''t eaten since this morning."


    Hannah snorted, pretending not to understand his meaning, and turned to go upstairs.


    Lionel quickly closed the distance, his arm snaking around her waist.


    "I want you to make me some pastas," he murmured, his chin resting on the top of


    her head. “I''m really hungry, and my stomach hurts."


    Hannah jabbed him with her elbow. "Then let it hurt."


    He hadn''t even eaten because he was too busy taking care of Sandra, and now


    he had the nerve toe here andin to her.


    Lionel feigned a stumble back, still holding her hand.


    "I was going toe find you this morning, but Kim''s family showed up and dyed me. That''s why I was sote."


    He led her toward the kitchen. "I went to your hospital room, but you were already gone. The nurse told me you''d been discharged."


    When she didn''t respond, he took her hand and ced it on his stomach, his brow furrowed in pain. "It really does hurt. I''m not lying."


    Hannah looked up at him, her face a cold mask. A thin sheen of sweat covered his forehead, and his lips were pale. He looked even more haggard than before.


    “Hmph!” She yanked her hand away and grabbed an apron.


    She wasn''t making it for him; she was making them for herself. She


    hadn''t had much of an appetites


    dinner and


    as starting to fee


    hungry now.


    ar


    Seeing that she was willing to cook, the tension in Lionel''s face eased. He walked over to her side. "I''ll help."


    Hannah''s hands froze. Her eyes widened in disbelief for a second before she regained herposure and continued what she was doing.


    en


    Thest time they had cooked together had been years ago. She remembered it clearly. He hade home from work, seen her in the kitchen, and without a word, put on an apron and expertly taken the knife from her hand.


    She never thought that beautiful memory would be just that—a memory.


    After the pastas were done, Hannah was about to take her bowl upstairs, but Lionel intercepted it and ced it on the dining table.


    She was too exhausted to fight with him anymore. She sat down.


    "Kim''s parents came by," he said, watching her for a reaction. "They said the wedding will happen as soon as Sandra has recovered."