The unwanted wife’s unexpected comeback

Chapter 982:

After her recent bout with a mild fever, Gemma had felt lethargic for days.

Pierre tried new recipes every day to ensure she received the essential nutrients.

Initially, too weak to eat on her own, Gemma depended on Pierre’s assistance. Even as her strength returned, she enjoyed the comfort of him feeding her.

With time, Pierre’s visits to Gemma’s room became more frequent, and his caregiving skills improved. His attentiveness rivaled that of Sheila. However, he rarely started conversations. Gemma often prompted him, asking, “Why don’t you ask me who cooks better, you or Sheila?”

Pierre generally had little interest in such light topics, but he played along for Gemma’s sake. “Who do you think cooks better?”

Gemma’s eyes sparkled. “Sheila.”

Without a reaction, Pierre simply offered her another bite of porridge.

“Just kidding. You both cook well. It’s hard to pick,” Gemma teased.

Pierre responded flatly, “Miss Hampton, open your mouth.” He focused solely on feeding her as if ticking off a checklist.

Losing her playful spirit, Gemma murmured, “You’re no fun.”

Pierre gave a nonchalant “Hmm,” then continued feeding her.

Gemma observed his well-formed lips. “You seldom laugh. How high is your laughter threshold?”

“Not very,” Pierre replied.

“Then why don’t you smile?”

Pierre glanced up. “Why should I?”

His reply, though not harsh, disappointed Gemma. “Is talking to me that tedious?”

Pierre pursed his lips. “Somewhat.”

Gemma’s desire to eat waned.noveldrama

Persistently, Pierre scraped the bowl with the spoon, adding a gentle caution, “I report your meal intake to Mr. Hampton. If he learns you ate only two spoonfuls tonight…”

Pierre scooped up another spoonful.

Gemma disliked his tone but, wary of Corey’s displeasure, ate quietly. “If you’d just smile, I’d finish my meal,” she proposed.

“I can’t fake a smile,” Pierre answered.

“Not even a pretend one?”

“I value sincerity over pretense.”

As dusk settled, Pierre showered and returned to Gemma’s bedroom, taking a seat on the sofa.

With Sheila away, Pierre had been keeping Gemma company in this manner.

Lying on her side, Gemma watched the muscles play under Pierre’s white T-shirt. His time as a boxer had left his arms notably bulkier than average. Curiously, she inquired, “You’re skilled in the kitchen, so what drew you to boxing?” Boxing was dangerous, earning money at the risk of one’s life.

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