The Wrong Woman

Chapter 317

As Fenna approached with a small bowl, intending to divide the beef noodle soup between Nathan and herself, Mila felt a twinge of discomfort in her heart. She gently nudged Phoebe and whispered, “Let’s swap seats.”

gaze dimmed as he watched Mila distancing herself from him during their seat

Nathan’s gaze exchange.

Phoebe opted for fried chicken, and when Mila handed her the plum juice, she glanced at it skeptically. “Why not get me a cola instead? What’s with the plum juice?” she asked.

Mila remained silent as she twisted off the cap and took a sip, her brow furrowing. “It tastes good, and it complements your fried chicken well,” she remarked.

After setting down the juice, Mila picked up her fork and began to eat.

Fenna portioned out some noodles and pushed the remaining toward Nathan. “Nate, have some.”

Nathan noticed his bowl was filled with beef, while Fenna’s had only a scant amount of clear broth and noodles. He had known Fenna for years and was well aware of her fondness for beef, but something seemed off today.

Sliding his bowl toward Fenna, he said, “Take some beef.”

Fenna shook her head, though her eyes were greedily fixed on the beef in his bowl. “You’ve lost weight these past few days. You should eat more. I don’t mind going without,” she insisted.

picked up some beef and passed

a bright smile, her voice soft as she replied, “Thank you, Nate. You’re always so kind

Π

instant, Mila found her

chicken, asked curiously, “Why are

noodle soup? Short on cash?”

diet. Can’t

why not order a smaller

Morrison’s share means he won’t have enough to eat.”

Nathan, “Nate, is it enough for

“It’s fine.”

+15 BONUS

Fenna’s behavior, then shifted her gaze to Nathan.

he couldn’t be oblivious. But why did he seem clueless about Fenna’s bitchy behavior?

attention to Mila,

for the food. No wonder she opted for plum

a hearty bite of her fried chicken, relishing

their journey. It didn’t take long for Fenna to succumb to drowsiness. She leaned toward Nathan and rested

Mila’s chest. She turned toward the window and rested her chin on her arm, consumed by dejection.