Chapter 6
Conan went silent for a while before telling me that he’d come to my office bright and early to look for me. And now, he was currently waiting in the underground parking lot of my office.
He managed to call my bluff on the lie I’d spun on the spot, but I was still unfazed. In fact, I got mad at him instead, accusing him in a chilly tone, “You seem to have a lot of free time on your hands, Conan Grande. Don’t you think you’re being a little too nosy?
“I am an adult. I don’t need to always tell you where I’m at any point of the day.”
Conan hurriedly explained himself, “I didn’t mean it that way. I just… I just wanted to bring you home.
“Ingrid, you must be at Eva’s, right? I’m coming for you now.”
Eva’s place was indeed just a short distance away from my office.
After thinking for a bit, I decided not to reject Conan’s offer since I was about to go home anyway.
Conan’s car soon arrived, and he got out of the driver’s seat to hold the front passenger seat door open for me.
After getting into the car, I suddenly realized that I was stepping on something. I looked, and it was a pair of red–bottomed stilettos.
Conan looked like he’d just seen a ghost as he grabbed the stilettos and threw them into the backseat.
Then, while avoiding my gaze, he explained, “Mindy drank too much last night and threw up everywhere. I hadn’t noticed that her shoes had been left behind. Ingrid, don’t get the wrong—”
I interrupted him, “Conan, I honestly don’t care.”
There was a slight pause. “What?”
11
“I don’t care about anything that happens to you or around you anymore. So, there’s no need for you to explain anything to me.
Conan kept peeking at my side profile as I kept my eyes shut. He knew that I wasn’t lying then.
We got home, and I headed for the shower. When I walked out of the bathroom, Conan had already plated two servings of pasta and served them on the dining table, waiting eagerly for me to take a seat opposite him. He had never once offered to cook, and the pasta looked unappetizing.
In the past, I’d always looked forward to waiting for Conan to get off work on time and sit down at the table opposite me to enjoy the food I’d painstakingly cooked for him.
However, even after being married for so long, he never once told me whether he’d be coming home for dinner or not–and if he did, he never had anything good to say about my cooking at all.
He’d always complain that my cooking was too salty, too greasy, too disgusting, or made him feel like throwing up. just the daily insults.
were
Once, he brought his team back home for a project emergency, and while everyone praised my cooking, Conan just threw the whole plate of food I’d spent hours stewing especially for him onto the floor, where he let the dogs Mindy had brought with her run up to and gobble up the mess.
After his team left in awkward silence, he then told me off, “Don’t you ever dare to place such vile and disgusting things on the kitchen table ever again. You’re such a fucking embarrassment!”
Yet, I was very sure that Conan was only angry about the scrambled eggs I’d arranged in a heart shape on his food that upset Mindy and made her nearly cry in a corner.
“Ingrid, I asked your mom to teach me the way to make your favorite bolognese pasta,” Conan said, looking at me hopefully. “This is the first time I’m making it, and I know it’s not perfect, but why don’t you try it
“What did you say this was again?”
“This? Bolognese pasta, Ingrid.”
‘Or a bit? If it’s bad, I’ll make it again for you.”
With a scoff. “I mean, if you didn’t tell me
“Oh,” I said. I then picked up the steaming hot plate of pasta and dumped it all over him what it was, I’d have thought some random dog had a hemorrhage on this plate.” The noodles burned Conan’s waist, but he didn’t dare to move. His face just paled as he looked at me with dimmed eyes.
I had nothing else to say to him, so I went into the study and switched on my laptop to
on my stuff.
A short while later, after Conan was done cleaning up, he knocked gently on the study door and was about to say something when his
Chapter 6
phone suddenly rang.
