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Hitched & Hitched Again: A Comedy of Marital Mayhem

Chapter 149
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Chapter 149

What's with her friendly overture? Is there a difference between being kind and outright flirting?

What is this woman up to?

Tarquin returned home, his mind a tangled web of confusion. He opened the thermos and was greeted by an

inviting aroma.

Inside, she had prepared two side dishes, a fluffy omelet, six delicate pastries, and a serving of mixed fruit

compote.

The sides were fresh and vibrant, the omelet a perfect golden brown, the pastries tender and pale, and the

compote sweet and sticky....

It looked downright appetizing.

Tarquin hesitated for a moment, but then decided to sample each dish a personal poison test of sorts.

No poison detected, but his appetite certainly was. Before he knew it, he had polished off most of the meal.

If he hadn't pulled the brakes in time, he might have devoured Elijah’s share too.

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Glancing at the clock, it wasn’t even 6 AM yet. Tarquin carefully packed the remaining breakfast back into the

thermos and retreated to his bedroom.

Sleep was now a distant dream.

He lay on his back, hands clasped behind his head, staring at the ceiling in a daze.

All he could think about was Elysia.

He couldn't help but wonder what she was up to.

At 6:30 AM sharp, Elijah got up, ready to start his day with his usual grooming routine.

Tarquin had already set the remaining breakfast on the dining table, waiting for Elijah to finish up so he could

invite him to eat.

Elijah looked at the spread on the table, then at Tarquin, his gaze inquisitive.

His breakfasts were usually made with expensive ingredients, a variety of lavish dishes. By comparison, today’s

meal looked modest, which had never graced Elijah’s table before.

Tarquin knew what Elijah was wondering and explained, “I made it.”

Elijah was skeptical, “You've never made these before.”

“It's because I've never made them that | wanted to give it a try, to see if you'd like the taste,” Tarquin said,

picking up a pastry and placing it on Elijah’s plate.

“Try it, see if it suits your taste.”

Without overthinking, Elijah eyed the pastry for a moment, took a bite, and chewed thoughtfully.

Tarquin sat across from him, watching intently.

After a while, Elijah uttered two words, “It's good.”

Tarquin’s eyes flickered with unbidden joy, and a weight lifted from his heart.

“Good to hear. Have smore, these are also for you, and try the omelet,” he said with a smile.

Elijah said nothing more, just quietly ate his breakfast.

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Watching him clean his plate, Tarquin was deeply touched. His son was finally eating well!

But then, unexpectedly, “Is there more?”

Elijah looked up at him, eyes full of hope.

Tarquin was taken aback, “Hmm?”

“I'm not full. I'd like smore,” said Elijah!

If Tarquin had truly been the cook, he would have dashed into the kitchen by now. Nothing pleased him more

than to see his son enjoying his food; he'd even cook in the middle of the night if asked.

But the truth was, he hadn't made the breakfast, and he couldn't replicate it.

Even if he tried, the taste would surely not match Elysia’s handiwork.

All he could say was, “Not now, kiddo. Daddy’s got surgent business. I'll make smore for you later.”

A shadow of disappointment crossed Elijah’s face. He didn’t speak, just got up to wash his hands and returned to

his room.

Tarquin’s emotions were a complex mix, both elated and regretful.

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