“This is stomach-nourishing porridge from the old house. I asked the kitchen to prepare it for you every day since you’ve been unwell. Tomorrow morning, I’ll go back and bring you another portion.”
He scooped up a spoonful and brought it to my lips.
“Every time you’re sick, I wish I could take the pain for you,” he murmured.
I frowned, keeping my mouth closed, refusing to accept the gesture.
Patrick’s patience thinned, and he snapped, “Lora, are you done sulking? You’re not some 18-year-old girl anymore. Do you really expect me to keep coaxing you like before?”
He sighed heavily, then added, “Christy is the orphan my Grandpa Mike Barrett, an old family friend, entrusted to me before he passed away. Isn’t it normal for me to look after her? Can’t you be a bit more understanding?”
I tilted my head, curling my lips into a cold smirk.
“An orphan you were entrusted to care for? How noble. Taking care of her... even in bed.”
Patrick always said he liked me best when I was sensible and well-behaved.
I had always prioritized his feelings for everything. Even when I felt wronged or unhappy, as long as he coaxed me, I would quickly accept his gestures and let things go.