“Have you seen enough!” Isabella walked up to him and swiftly snatched the wish card he was holding in his hand.
Then, she haphazardly gathered the other scattered wish cards lying on the sofa.
Andrew didn’t stop her actions, just lounged slightly on the couch, legs casually crossed, eyes half-lidded, smiling at her.
She felt quite uncomfortable under his gaze, glaring at him fiercely. “Andrew, don’t get too pleased with yourself.”
He chuckled, slightly puzzled. “How come there are so many wish cards?”
She held a pile of wish cards in her arms and retorted grumpily, “I saw identical wish cards at a boutique. Is it wrong to buy them all?”
Isabella justified her actions confidently, yet she couldn’t shake off the unease. Were her wishes too many? Would he think she was greedy?
He stood up, his lips forming a gentle curve. Extending his hand, he affectionately tousled her hair. “Are these all the wishes for now? I’ll remember.”
After saying that, he lifted Asher from the couch, lightly tossing him in his arms, teasing, “Getting heavier.”
Asher giggled, his chubby little arms tightly wrapped around Andrew’s neck, rubbing his head against his father’s chest like a little wolf cub.
“Dad, high up. Dad, high up,” Asher called out.
Andrew lifted his arm, raising the baby high above his head. The baby laughed joyfully, filling the room with the sounds of a delighted child.
Isabella stood there with her arms crossed, smiling as she watched the father and son playing around. She felt that living like this was a kind of happiness. At least, she would live better than her mother.
“Stop playing, Asher needs to eat,” Amelia walked out of the kitchen, smiling as she removed her apron.
Asher slipped off from his father’s arms, trotting with his little legs into the dining room, a true little foodie.
“Amelia, prepare some hotpot ingredients tomorrow. We’ll have hotpot,” Andrew told Amelia.
“Why suddenly want hotpot?” Amelia asked, puzzled. She remembered he wasn’t particularly fond of hotpot.
A subtle smile tugged at his lips as his clear, profound gaze swept briefly over Isabella. He calmly replied, “The weather forecast says it’ll rain tomorrow.”
“…” She couldn’t see any necessary connection between rain and eating hotpot. However, since the master had commanded, she would just follow along.
“Don’t forget to buy spicy hotpot base, I don’t like clear broth,” Isabella said before briskly running upstairs, carrying the stack of wish cards.
The next day, Amelia went to the morning market early and returned with many ingredients. Slices of beef and lamb, fresh vegetables and mushrooms, and various soy products.
However, as they were halfway through the meal, a lightning bolt streaked across the sky, followed by a series of loud thunderclaps. Soon after, a heavy downpour poured down on the ground.
The dining room window was slightly open, letting in the moist air mixed with rain, refreshing and pleasant.
The family of three, enjoying their hotpot while listening to the rain outside, created a unique atmosphere.
Isabella proactively picked a piece of tofu from the clear soup pot and put it in Andrew’s bowl.
He raised his gaze, turning to look at the girl sitting beside him.
“What are you waiting for? If you don’t eat it soon, it’ll get too soft.” She pouted. Her cheeks were slightly flushed, and she couldn’t tell if it was from the spiciness or her shyness.
He averted his gaze, staring at the snow-white tofu in the bowl, lips slightly curving into a faint smile.
Even though the rain outside was noisy, his state of mind was unusually calm and serene.
Andrew thought to himself, ‘This is what a peaceful life in the present world looks like.’ He mused that now he could understand those werewolves of the Shadow Tribe who mingled with humans. Love could transcend racial barriers.
After the meal, Asher took his customary afternoon nap.
On such a pleasant rainy day, Andrew felt lazy to go out and spent his time dealing with official matters in his study. Conversely, Isabella had nothing to do and lounged in her room watching movies all afternoon.
Olivia often criticized her poor acting skills and suggested that she watch more classic films when she had free time. However, Isabella probably lacked talent in acting; she was more of a spectator. Instead, she was quite interested in classic movie and TV show soundtracks. Sometimes, when inspired, she would even jot down some musical scores.
The afternoon passed by quite leisurely.
After dinner, she and Andrew took Asher to the nearby supermarket in the community. There was a small children’s playground inside the supermarket, and Asher loved climbing up and down the slides there.
Isabella usually wore a disguise in public, with large sunglasses and a mask covering almost her entire face, yet a middle-aged woman nearly recognized her.
“How old is your son?” the woman asked.
“Twenty months and five days,” she replied. No one remembered her son’s age better than she did. The day she gave birth to Asher, she nearly passed through the gates of death, and the memory was still vivid.
“Why do you look so familiar, like a certain celebrity…”
The woman tapped her head, unable to recall for a moment.
Isabella suddenly felt a wave of anxiety. If she were recognized here, it would be troublesome. She couldn’t explain how she suddenly had a son.