Chapter 3 When did you learn

As soon as they returned to the Flower Garden, Grandma Betty saw the obvious "bump" on Angie's forehead and rushed over, treating her like a fragile flower as she helped her to the sofa.

"Miss Angie, what happened? Does it hurt?" Grandma Betty fussed.

Angie smiled slightly. "It's nothing, just a bump. It'll be fine in a couple of days."

"Oh my, how did it swell up like this? Have you seen a doctor?"

"We've already been to the hospital."

Grandma Betty nodded, suddenly realizing that Angie had come home with Mr. Charlie.

Angie looked up at Charlie, seeing him give some instructions to another servant by the door before walking inside, without looking back at her.

"Grandma Betty, from now on, please call me Mrs. Bennett, or young mistress. Either is fine," Angie said suddenly, while Charlie was still within earshot.

Betty was stunned for a moment before breaking into a joyful expression. "Oh! Mrs. Bennett! Mrs. Bennett!"

It seemed Miss Angie had come to her senses and was finally ready to live properly with Mr Charlie!

And they had come home together just now!

Betty happily went to prepare a late-night snack, but Angie glanced at the time and stood up. "You all go rest. I'll make the snack."

"Huh? Mrs. Bennett...?" Grandma Betty looked at her in surprise.

How could a young lady like Angie possibly cook?

She used to be unable to stand even the slightest smell of oil from the kitchen.

"With that injury on your head, you're in no state to make snacks. Go to your room and get ready to get some sleep," Charlie finally spoke as he walked back.

Angie didn't respond to him, only saying to Betty and the other servants, "It's very late. You should all go to rest."

Betty was about to speak, but seeing Mr. Charlie approached, she immediately closed her mouth, nodded, and left the hall.

"You probably haven't eaten dinner either. At this time, noodles would be the simplest. Wait for me a moment," she said to Charlie, turning her head to the kitchen.

Charlie caught her wrist as she passed, studying her for a moment to make sure she wasn't joking. He asked softly, "Do you know how?"

Angie's lips curved upward.

Angie was quite confident in her current culinary skills, but she didn't want to boast. "I can't guarantee how good it will taste, but I can definitely cook it thoroughly."

Charlie glanced at the minor injury on her head. Although he didn't want her to enter the kitchen, seeing her enthusiastic expression, he ultimately didn't dampen her rare burst of eagerness.

He released her hand, and Angie could still feel the warmth of his palm on her slender, fair wrist.

Clean, warm, and soothing against her skin, giving her an inexplicable sense of security.

Angie emerged from the kitchen with two steaming bowls of noodles. Charlie was on the phone when she returned. After his call, he turned to find Angie at the dining table, looking at him expectantly.

It was Angie's first-time cooking for him in both lives. Though outwardly calm, she felt a bit nervous inside.

The noodles looked and smelled delicious. Charlie approached. The servants had retired, and only Angie had been in the kitchen. The food seemed genuinely her handiwork.

Charlie glanced at the bowls. "When did you learn to cook?"

"Ages ago. You just didn't know!" Angie winked. "I promised dinner at home today. Even if it's just noodling, I kept my word!"

Charlie didn't press. Seeing her eager eyes, he took the chopsticks and had a bite.

His every movement was graceful, even while eating. Angie couldn't look away.

She'd never observed Charlie so closely before. Each glance made her heart warm, and her pulse quicken...

If not for Daisy's meddling, she might've fallen for him long ago.

Noticing her stare, Charlie raised an eyebrow. "What are you looking at? Something on my face?"

Angie took a deep breath, feeling a bowl of noodles seemed unfulfilling to end the night.

"Why don't you move back to the master bedroom..." she suggested, blushing slightly.

Charlie finished his noodles and set down his chopsticks. After a pause, he replied coolly, "I'll be in studies tonight. I have work to do. You should rest."

With that, he stood and left.

Angie was speechless.

Had he misunderstood? She wasn't trying to seduce him into a divorce! She genuinely wanted to make things work!

Angie stood quickly, noticing Charlie was already on the phone with the company's night secretary. Clearly, he had important business tonight.

She could only prop her chin on her hand, gazing at his straight back.

She thought she'd won the initial battle, only to stumble at the final hurdle...

She should've known Charlie wouldn't be so easily won over...

As the night deepened, Angie couldn't sleep. She went downstairs for milk, intending to pour one for Charlie too. But she remembered he didn't like such drinks.

She paused mid-pour, then headed back upstairs, stopping at the study door.

Pressing her ear against it, she barely heard anything inside.

The early autumn night left the hallway chilly.

Near 3 AM, the study door suddenly opened.

"Angie?" Charlie had just stepped out when he spotted her sleeping figure by the door.

Angie looked up groggily. "Finished working?"

Charlie's expression darkened as he pulled her up. "Do you know what time it is? Why are you sleeping here?"

Angie remained silent as Charlie led her into the study. It was her first chance to properly examine where he'd spent so much time since returning to the Garden.

Like his office, it was immaculate and organized. Two computers displayed company data, with documents spread across the desk.

Noticing Angie wore only a thin nightgown, Charlie felt her cold hands and sat her on the study sofa. He draped a coat over her shoulders before standing in front, his gaze fixed on her face.

"Angie, how old are you?"

"..."

"Are you a child? Don't you know you'll catch a cold sleeping in the hallway in this weather?"

"I just wanted to wait until you finished, to talk. I must've dozed off..."

"It's late. Whatever you want to say can wait till tomorrow." Charlie observed her face, pale from the cold outside.

She hadn't rested much since yesterday, and faint dark circles had formed under her eyes. Right now, getting her to bed seemed the most important thing.

Angie tried to speak, but Charlie led her out, his warm hand gripping hers, leaving no room for protest. He escorted her back to the master bedroom and shut the door firmly.

...

Charlie returned to the study, closed the data charts on his computer, and went to shower in the adjacent master bedroom.

He had just been lying down when he heard the door open. Angie, who had obediently returned earlier, tiptoed in and boldly lifted his blanket, climbing straight into bed.

Charlie sighed. "..."

"Angie," he said softly. "Whether you're advancing or retreating, divorce isn't an option for us. Go back to sleep, okay?"

Angie buried her face in the blanket beside him, her voice muffled. "This is perfect! Charlie, remember what you said today. From now on, no matter what, we won't get divorced!"

Charlie seemed not to hear. He gripped her shoulders and lifted her up, wondering if something was wrong with her mind today.

Angie was about to speak when Charlie's hand suddenly moved to her forehead, causing her to pause.

She allowed his hand to brush her forehead, his warm fingertips carefully avoiding the swollen spot.

"No fever," he said flatly after checking her temperature.

"..."

"And you don't seem to have taken the wrong medication."

"..."

Angie remained silent, her hands clutching his blanket tightly.

Her face wore an expression of righteous determination, refusing to leave his bed. But her pale toes, peeking out from under the covers, betrayed her inner nervousness and shyness. They curled slightly, with an indescribable cuteness.

Charlie glanced down, discreetly pulling the blanket to cover her completely, preventing her from catching a cold.

Though it was a natural for her, Angie felt a warmth in her heart. She stretched her feet under the blanket, accidentally brushing against him lightly.

"Don't..." Charlie warned in a low voice warmly.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to..."