“Now that you’re back, go make dinner.” Liam ’s gaze swept over her plump figure, his disdain undisguised. “ Vanessa must be tired taking Lila to class, so we need to make something nourishing. You don’t know anything else, so all you can do is run around in the kitchen.”
Clara looked at him and suddenly smiled, her eyes stinging with tears. Seven years ago, she casually mentioned wanting to eat pineapple buns from the south of the city. He drove three hours through the night, braving the heavy rain to buy them, carefully tucking them into his arms, afraid they would get cold or soft. Seven years ago, she twisted her ankle while practicing dance. He stayed by her bedside without leaving her side, feeding her water and food, massaging her to reduce the swelling, and saying, "From now on, I will be your legs."
But now, he feels it's superfluous to even glance at her, treating her only as a nanny who can cook.