CHAPTER 196: CHAPTER 196: AM I A SECRET LOVER?

Blake Sinclair’s voice sounded weak.

He rested his chin in the crook of her neck, his warm breath causing a tickling sensation.

Holly was a bit stunned by his sudden move.

She pushed him away slightly.

Today, Blake was wearing a black sweater, which made his face look a bit pale. A few strands of hair lazily draped over his forehead, making him seem somewhat frail.

She reached out to feel his forehead, and it did seem slightly warmer than usual.

Blake nuzzled into her palm, sounding a bit aggrieved: "I sent you several messages, but you didn’t reply."

Only then did Holly remember her phone and awkwardly explained, "Last night, I forgot to charge it when I got back. It shut down automatically. I just plugged it in and turned it on."

She led him inside, sat him on the couch, "Why are you running a fever? Did you catch a cold after saving someone yesterday? Do you want me to take your temperature? You look quite uncomfortable."

Blake leaned against her, his arm wrapped around her waist, shook his head, sounding muffled: "No need for that, just stay with me. Holding you makes it feel not so bad."

Holly felt that ever since they had cleared things up last night, he was like he’d flipped some strange switch, becoming unusually clingy.

Amused, she prodded his shoulder, "Mr. Sinclair, get a grip, you’re thirty years old! Not three!"

"So, are you saying I’m past my prime?"

Blake lifted his eyes, a watery sheen in his amber gaze, "Didn’t you say last night that I’d always be your Yarrow and we’d always be together?"

Holly was both exasperated and amused by his intentional misinterpretation and pitiful act.

Just as she was about to say something, she suddenly smelled something burnt.

"Oh no!"

She abruptly realized that the water in the pot had boiled dry!

With a startled cry, she dashed into the kitchen.

The small pot on the stove had boiled dry and was smoking.

In a panic, she tried to grab the scorching glass lid with her bare hand, getting burned in the process.

The lid slipped from her grasp, falling to the ground, fortunately not breaking.

Holly rubbed her reddened fingers, looking at the buns in the pot.

Her brunch plans were completely ruined.

The buns had met a tragic end, unworthy of another glance.

Blake rushed in at the commotion, turning off the gas.

Seeing her burned hand, without a word, he led her back to the living room and applied ointment for the burn.

"I’m sorry. If I hadn’t lied to you, we wouldn’t have been apart, and you wouldn’t have gotten hurt."

Seeing the frown on Blake’s face, it was instead Holly who comforted him, "It’s okay, a little ointment will fix it right up."

"More importantly, solving the issue of my empty stomach is crucial."

"Then wait a moment."

Blake finished applying the ointment, ruffled her hair, and turned back into the kitchen.

He rolled up his sweater sleeves, swiftly washed the pot, sliced the meat, washed the vegetables, and boiled water for noodles.

In just over ten minutes, a steaming bowl of vegetable and shredded meat noodles was placed in front of Holly.

The broth was clear, with a perfectly poached egg on top.

Holly inhaled the aroma with satisfaction.

The hot noodles were unbelievably comforting as they settled in her stomach.

Satisfied, Holly put down her chopsticks, wiped her mouth, and looked up to meet Blake’s adoring smile.

Suddenly, as if she remembered something, her smile faded, and she scrutinized him with narrowed eyes,

"A moment ago, you were at death’s door due to a fever, weak and in need of company. Now, look how deft you are? This level of vegetable chopping and noodle cooking skills is unlike someone who’s ill?"

Blake’s smile froze instantly.

The next moment, he held his forehead, slightly furrowed his brow, and began acting weak again, his voice dropping: "I think I’m feeling a bit unwell again."

Holly wasn’t buying it; she walked over, felt his forehead against hers.

After a few comparisons, she crossed her arms, looked down at him, "Your temperature’s lower than mine? Mr. Sinclair, come clean now. Is this fever real?"

Blake knew he couldn’t hide it any longer, so he decided to confess, "It’s fake. I just wanted to see you and stay by your side, I couldn’t find another reason."

Seeing him in his "I know it’s wrong but I’ll dare do it again" demeanor, Holly was both frustrated and amused.

"Weren’t you saying yesterday you wouldn’t deceive me again? It’s barely been a night, and you’re already going back on your word?"

"I didn’t." Blake was a bit flustered and quickly explained, "I did have a slight fever late last night, but it went away by morning."

"Hmph."

At that moment, the window rattled as a torrential downpour started outside.

The rain came down heavy and fast.

The balcony window seemed not fully closed, and raindrops sprinkled in, wetting the clothes hung there.

Holly got up to close the window.

Blake was quicker, closing the window and shutting the glass door.

As he closed the window, he casually glanced downstairs, and something made his eyes flash.

He grabbed a mop, dried the rainwater that had drifted onto the balcony, then sat close to Holly again, naturally wrapping an arm around her shoulder.

"Holly, when are we going back to The Grandflora Gardens?"

Holly leaned against him, playing with his fingers, and after a thought, said: "Let’s wait a bit longer. Director Lennon is still holding onto the idea of us getting divorced. If we suddenly go back now, she’ll definitely overthink it. Let’s wait till she calms down a bit more."

Hearing this, Blake furrowed his brows, somewhat displeased, "So, what am I now? A secret lover?"

He was a legitimate husband!

The rightful one!

"Don’t say that!" Holly was amused by his choice of words, giving him a gentle elbow.

Blake took the opportunity to hold her hand, gently pulling her to half-lie on his lap.

Holly looked up at him, his sharply defined profile illuminated by the dim overcast light outside. His eyes, gazing at her, were filled with tenderness.

He reached out to tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear.

"Holly, our wedding is little over half a month away, but the wedding photos haven’t been taken yet."

Holly blinked, pretending to ponder, "Then... maybe wait two more weeks?"

Blake sighed, his tone growing more plaintive: "The wedding dress hasn’t been tried on yet. If it needs altering, two weeks might not be enough."

"Then... ten days?" Holly backed down another step.

"Sigh,"

Blake sighed heavily, "Who knows how much longer it’ll take to finalize the guest list. The invitations need to be printed in advance....."

Seeing him in his "downtrodden husband" mode, Holly finally couldn’t hold back, laughing as she surrendered, "OK! OK! OK! One week! Is one week alright? We’ll move back next weekend!"

Blake was about to heave another sigh, but Holly’s warning glare stopped him in his tracks.

Seeing how she was obviously caring but still trying to feign anger, Blake was itching with affection.

He wanted to kiss her, and naturally, he did.

He leaned down and kissed her lips.

Holly didn’t resist, wrapping her arms around his neck, returning his kiss.

The only sounds in the living room were their intertwined breaths and the rain outside, the atmosphere gradually heating up, like lightning striking flint, becoming uncontrollable.

But just then, voices were heard by the door, Director Lennon and Teacher Crowe talking.

"I told you it was going to rain this morning, but you insisted on putting the clothes out!" Director Lennon scolded.

"The weather forecast isn’t reliable; it said it would rain in the afternoon!" Teacher Crowe’s voice had a hint of grievance.

"You can’t trust the weather forecast! If you hadn’t left the car keys in the classroom, we’d have been home long ago."

"I know, I know, stop scolding me."

"I’m not scolding you, hurry and open the door. Holly’s phone isn’t reachable; the balcony might be flooded."

Holly jumped up with a start, pushing Blake away.

"It’s my mom and dad!"

She lowered her voice, her face full of panic, "Why have they come back?"

Holly was flustered, not noticing that Blake seemed unsurprised, as if he had known.

"Quick, go hide in my room."

She dragged Blake, pushing and pulling him into the bedroom, then swiftly shut the door.

Just as the bedroom door closed, the front door opened.