When Her "Death" Couldn't Break Him

Chapter 309 Help Me Pick Out The Carrots

“I’ll go take a look,” Cecilia said, descending the stairs quickly after hearing the loud noise from below. When she reached Nathaniel’s room, she found the door tightly shut.

Nothing seemed amiss, so she decided not to investigate further. She figured that once Nathaniel could no longer bear staying here, he would leave on his own.

The following day, Cecilia woke up early to start preparing breakfast. She deliberately cooked carrots and scrambled eggs, knowing that Nathaniel had always been a picky eater who disliked carrots.

It was a trait that their son, Jonathan, had inherited–if there was even a hint of carrot in his food, he wouldn’t touch it.

Martha was still asleep, so Cecilia set aside a portion for her and served out the rest.

After freshening up, Nathaniel emerged from his room, dressed in casual home clothes. As Cecilia glanced over at him, she noticed a large wound on his forehead, instantly understanding that the noise from the previous night was likely due to him bumping his head.

Pretending not to notice, she said, “Breakfast is ready.”

“Okay,” Nathaniel replied, carefully making his way over to the dining table. The house wasn’t large, but it was filled with furniture that could easily become obstacles. He was wary of bumping into anything again, knowing it would only add to Cecilia’s annoyance.

As much as Cecilia wanted him to leave quickly, she couldn’t bear to watch him walk into walls. “Move a bit to the left,” she instructed, “you’re about to hit the wall.”

Nathaniel paused, his ears turning red with embarrassment. He took a few steps to the left and quickly found his way to the dining table. He pulled out a chair and sat down with surprising grace.

“Thank you, I’ve remembered it,” he said, his voice calm.

He was being so agreeable that Cecilia found herself wishing he hadn’t lost his memory. It felt wrong to take advantage of his condition, even though she knew it was the same man who had once treated her so coldly.

She scooped up some scrambled eggs and placed them before him. “Here.”

“Thank you. I’ll make a point to rise earlier in the mornings to lend you a hand,” Nathaniel offered, his tone sincere.

He hadn’t had a peaceful sleep due to the unfamiliar environment.All content © N/.ôvel/Dr/ama.Org.

Cecilia was taken aback. “No need. You can’t see anyway; how could you help me?”

Nathaniel’s throat tightened, but he softened his voice. “You don’t have to work. You can move back to Daltonia Villa with Martha. I’ll take care of you both.”

Take care of us both…

Cecilia was so engrossed in eating her scrambled eggs that she nearly choked. “I don’t need your help. I can support myself.”

At that moment, Nathaniel presented a gold card to Cecilia. She looked at it, confused. “What are you doing?”

“It’s my payroll card,” Nathaniel replied, barely parting his thin lips. He had asked Mason to prepare it before he came here, understanding that he was once the CEO of a multinational corporation with substantial wealth.

“I don’t want it,” Cecilia said firmly, pushing the card away.

Nathaniel set the card down on the table. “You may not want it, but I can’t not give it to you.”

Cecilia didn’t bother arguing further. “Hurry up and eat. I need to compose a song later,” she said, dismissing the subject.

The golden card lay there, untouched, as Nathaniel picked up his spoon and took a bite of the scrambled eggs. As soon as the taste hit his tongue, his brows furrowed.

“Ceci…”

“What now?” Cecilia asked, irritated, as she looked up from her meal.

“Could you do me a favor? I’m not really fond of carrots. Could you help me pick them out?” Nathaniel asked, his tone as gentle as his demeanor. Even though he had lost his memory, his tastes remained unchanged, as did his habit of directing others.

Cecilia casually took his plate, picked out the carrots, and handed it back to him. “All right, it’s ready to eat now.”

Nathaniel scooped up another spoonful and hesitated before saying, “Ceci, did you really pick them all out?”

“I did. Maybe I left one behind.” Cecilia stood up, uninterested in his complaints. “I’m off to write. music. Once you’re done eating, remember to wash the dishes. The sink is right in front of

you, just a couple steps away.”

She treated him as if he weren’t blind, expecting him to fend for himself. If this were the Nathaniel before his amnesia, he would have lost his temper over such treatment. But now, he pitifully finished the scrambled eggs–carrots and all–before heading to the kitchen to wash the dishes.

Alas, how could a man like him, born with a golden spoon in his mouth, possibly wash dishes?

When Cecilia returned to her room to write music, Martha descended the stairs and found the kitchen filled with bubbles.