Chapter 35
35:
“I’ll take those,” Christina said with a gentle smile as she stepped forward and took the bowls from Chloe’s hands.
Chloe blinked in surprise. “Wait, did you just come downstairs?”
Christina offered a light shrug, her voice teasing. “Yeah, just now. Ran right into you.”
In truth, Christina had been lingering just outside the kitchen, quietly listening to the warm laughter and the conversation between Dylan and Chloe. It stirred something in her. She had never known what that kind of sibling bond felt like. She had no family that cared for her. And sometimes, in moments like this, she found herself quietly longing for it.
There was a reason Christina had agreed so easily to Dylan’s request. It wasn’t just his willingness to risk his life for others without hesitation—it was the sincerity that radiated from him, a sincerity she couldn’t ignore. And just moments ago, hearing Chloe laugh—that carefree, heartfelt sound—another thought had quietly bloomed inside her. She didn’t want that laughter to fade. Not yet. Maybe not ever.
Footsteps echoed softly as Dylan walked over, ladle in hand. His gaze naturally found Christina.
“Dylan made some onion soup and a few dishes,” Chloe chimed in brightly. “But if you don’t like them, we can make something else.”
Christina shook her head gently. “No, this is perfect. I’m not picky.”
Her eyes flicked over to Dylan, pausing as she took in his appearance. He was wearing a sharply tailored suit, crisp and clean—but over it hung a soft pink apron tied snugly around his waist, and a dark scarf circled his neck. The contrast was almost comical. The mix of his formal outfit, the silent way he stood, and the large ladle in his hand made him seem both distant and awkward—a side of Dylan hardly anyone had ever seen.
She didn’t mind the pink apron, but the scarf had her puzzled. Why on earth was he wearing that indoors?
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Before Christina could ask, Chloe followed her gaze to the apron and spoke up with a grin. “Oh, that apron? My mom picked it out. It’s not his style at all.”
Christina chuckled softly. “Your mom has good taste. It’s really cute.”
She meant it. The apron was adorable. Dylan’s tall, commanding figure and cold, sharp features stood in stark contrast to the soft pink apron. The unexpected mix was a sight that almost felt too stimulating. If it weren’t for the black scarf around his neck, she might have flushed at the sight of him.
Catching Christina’s compliment, Dylan instinctively straightened his posture, a quiet pride blooming inside him. In that moment, an unexpected lightness lifted his mood, making him feel strangely tempted to turn on his charm.
Unable to hold back any longer, Christina asked, “Hey… Is your neck okay? Why the scarf?”
Dylan instinctively reached up and tugged the scarf higher around his neck. The spot where Christina’s lips had brushed his skin the night before still carried a faint mark—a subtle imprint that hadn’t completely faded. It wasn’t obvious, but it was intimate and strangely persistent.
He didn’t understand why he hadn’t simply washed it off. Instead, he covered it up as if preserving it meant something.
“I’ve got a bit of a cold,” he lied casually, his expression unreadable. “Mild allergic reaction, too.”
It was a convenient excuse—unquestionable and safe. Neither Christina nor Chloe dwelled on it.
Chloe just rolled her eyes playfully. “Don’t mind Dylan,” she said, looping her arm around Christina’s with ease. “You must be starving. Come on, let’s dig in!”
“Alright,” Christina said with a soft nod, though her eyes lingered on Chloe for a moment longer. From what she’d seen so far, Chloe’s health wasn’t just fragile—it was concerning.
As the meal began and casual conversation flowed, Christina waited for the right moment. Then, gently setting her fork down, she reached across the table and lightly took Chloe’s hand. “Your hand’s a little cold,” she said casually, as if merely commenting on the temperature. But in truth, she was carefully assessing Chloe’s condition.
Chloe laughed softly. “My health’s always been a little off,” she said with a dismissive wave. “Cold hands are pretty normal for me. Nothing to worry about.”
Christina’s heart ached at Chloe’s lightness and unshakable spirit. Her brows furrowed slightly. It was clear—Chloe’s condition wasn’t just “not the best.” It was serious. Such a vibrant, lovable girl… it would be a terrible loss to lose her.
Christina looked from Chloe to Dylan, her expression growing serious.
“There’s something important I need to discuss.”
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