When Her "Death" Couldn't Break Him (Cecilia and Nathaniel)

Chapter 309 Help Me Pick Out The Carrots

“I’ll go take a look,” Cecilia said, descending the stairs quickly after hearing the loud noise from below. When she reached Nathaniel’s room, she found the door tightly shut.

Nothing seemed amiss, so she decided not to investigate further. She figured that once Nathaniel could no longer bear staying here, he would leave on his own.

The following day, Cecilia woke up early to start preparing breakfast. She deliberately cooked carrots and scrambled eggs, knowing that Nathaniel had always been a picky eater who disliked carrots.

It was a trait that their son, Jonathan, had inherited–if there was even a hint of carrot in his food, he wouldn’t touch it.

Martha was still asleep, so Cecilia set aside a portion for her and served out the rest.

After freshening up, Nathaniel emerged from his room, dressed in casual home clothes. As Cecilia glanced over at him, she noticed a large wound on his forehead, instantly understanding that the noise from the previous night was likely due to him bumping his head.

Pretending not to notice, she said, “Breakfast is ready.”

“Okay,” Nathaniel replied, carefully making his way over to the dining table. The house wasn’t large, but it was filled with furniture that could easily become obstacles. He was wary of bumping into anything again, knowing it would only add to Cecilia’s annoyance.

As much as Cecilia wanted him to leave quickly, she couldn’t bear to watch him walk into walls. “Move a bit to the left,” she instructed, “you’re about to hit the wall.”

red with embarrassment. He took a few steps to the left and quickly found his way to the dining

you, I’ve remembered it,” he said,

lost his memory. It felt wrong to take advantage of his condition, even though she knew

some scrambled eggs and placed them before

to rise earlier in the mornings to lend you a hand,” Nathaniel offered, his

peaceful sleep due to the

“No need. You can’t

work. You can move back to Daltonia Villa

care of us

her scrambled eggs that she nearly choked. “I don’t need

to Cecilia. She looked at it, confused. “What are you

his thin lips. He had asked Mason to prepare it before he came here,

don’t want it,” Cecilia said firmly, pushing the

not want it, but I

I need to compose a song later,” she said, dismissing

a bite of

“Ceci…”

asked, irritated, as she looked