My Coldhearted Ex demands a Remarriage

Episode 150

From the kitchen, Elijah cast a brief glance her way before continuing his cleanup.

He washed the pot thoroughly, set the water boiling, and began preparing the spaghetti with a deftness that belied any notion of him being a novice in the kitchen.

In Elizabeth’s conventional view, a man cooking was somehow a lessening of his masculinity.

Yet Elijah was dismantling that stereotype effortlessly.

With his shirt collar undone just enough to reveal the contours of his chest muscles, and his forearms smooth yet defined, veins prominently tracing down to his skilled hands, he moved about handling the kitchenware.

There was an undeniable allure to his actions, a sensuality that captivated.

Watching him maneuver around the kitchen was unexpectedly gratifying for Elizabeth, the sight a visual feast that seemed to nourish the soul itself.

Before long, Elijah was setting down two steaming plates of spaghetti on the dining table.

“What are you still sitting there for? Go wash your hands and let’s eat,” he called out, breaking her reverie.

“Oh.” Elizabeth’s thoughts abruptly shattered as she found herself walking toward the kitchen to wash her hands.

It was a scene ripped straight from a normal married life, tinged with the bittersweet realization of their impending divorce.

Upon returning from the kitchen, she confronted the intimacy of the small square table that left little space for emotional distance.

With a contemplative pause, she chose the chair directly across from Elijah, sealing the proximity between them.

The dinner plates bore spaghetti arranged with meticulous care, each topped with a perfectly cooked egg and generously drizzled with sauce.

Elizabeth’s plate, however, featured an extra dollop of her favorite sauce—a silent acknowledgment from Elijah of her preferences.

Outwardly, Elizabeth maintained a composed facade, yet beneath it, her emotions churned as violently as the storm brewing outside.

Her only respite was the meal before her.

The spaghetti, rich and savory from the sauce, proved a welcome distraction.

She devoured it quickly, driven by her hunger.

Elijah’s eyes flickered with a subtle gleam of pride as he noted the clean plate in front of her, not a trace of sauce left.

He asked, “So, can I cook?”

“Hmm?” Elizabeth, caught off guard by his question, blinked in confusion before it clicked—he was referring to her earlier offhand critique of his culinary skills.

Speechless, she could only marvel silently at how petty he could be.