Chapter 179: Hubby
The sun was already high in the sky when Jessica stirred from her sleep. Her hand patted the space beside her, and when she felt no one there, she slowly opened her eyes. She was right—no one was there.
Her stomach rumbled loudly. Shaking her head helplessly, she muttered, "Hungry. I wonder if there’s any breakfast downstairs."
She glanced around the room, but there was no sign of Davis or anyone else. Her ears perked up as she strained to hear if he was in the bathroom, but it was silent.
The bed was already cold—a clear sign that Davis had left a long time ago, she wondered where he had gone off to while she is still dozing in bed at such an odd hour. Rubbing her temples, she sighed. "At this rate, I’m definitely becoming lazy," she muttered to herself.
Her eyes fell on the bedside table. "Is that breakfast?" she murmured, a bright smile warming her lips. Swallowing hard, she pushed herself up toward the edge of the bed and her eyes widened, mouth watering at the sight of the simple breakfast.
She didn’t doubt that this was his doing. For a while now, Davis had taken over preparing her breakfast. Some adjustments had even been made to their room—it had been expanded to include a kitchenette, stocked with simple groceries to avoid his constant trips to the central kitchen.
Jessica doubted she’d ever be able to enjoy breakfast elsewhere without recalling the taste of his. It had slowly become familiar and comforting.
Though she never expected much from him, she felt genuinely happy whenever he did things like this. At some point, it had even become a quiet expectation. But this morning’s gesture was a surprise—he wasn’t around, and she hadn’t thought he’d prepare it before stepping out.
She lifted the cover slowly, revealing a mouthwatering, exquisite breakfast: toasted bread, sausages, scrambled eggs, and vegetables, with a flask of tea on the side. A sticky note was placed nearby: "Breakfast for you. Be back soon."
Looking at the breakfast and reading the note made her heart flutter. Without getting out of bed, she carefully carried the tray to herself, setting it down with her legs crossed beneath her. She poured the tea into a mug, her movements tender as she arranged the food.
She felt grateful he’d thought to put the tea in a flask to retain its warmth. Without a second thought, she dug into the meal. The taste was unique—she made a mental note to ask him for his recipe.