After ending the chat with Lucy, Tristan still hadn't returned. Cecilia went to the wardrobe to get her pajamas and went to the bathroom to remove her makeup and take a bath. When she was alone at home, she liked to wear nightgowns as they were comfortable and convenient. But now that Tristan was back, she could only wear two-piece pajamas.
Although they had never had a physical relationship, the housekeeper usually came over to tidy up the rooms. They had been working at the Harrington Family estate for many years, and in the eyes of their family, they played the role of a loving couple. To avoid revealing the truth, they slept on the same bed.
At first, she felt a bit awkward, fearing that with his youthful spirit, he wouldn't be able to resist such a beautiful woman sleeping next to him. Fortunately, the bed in the bedroom was large, and they each occupied half of it. He slept on the left side while she slept close to the right side of the bed, with enough distance in between for two more people to lie down.
Although there was no agreement between the two before getting married that they couldn't engage in sexual activity as husband and wife, their marriage was a business alliance. They had only met once before the wedding, so on the wedding night, after Cecilia showed resistance, Tristan, being a gentleman, did not touch her and agreed to the imaginary dividing line she drew in the middle of the bed. They never crossed each other's territories.
After showering, Cecilia dried her hair and went straight to bed. She had been wearing high heels all day and her body was exhausted. As soon as her head touched the pillow, her eyelids started trembling, and she fell into a deep sleep with Tristan's densely packed schedule popping up in her mind. She wondered how he managed to stay so energetic with such a busy work life.
Half asleep, half awake, Cecilia felt Tristan getting into bed. The familiar scent of a man lingered in the air, a comforting aroma.
...
In the early morning, Cecilia regained consciousness. Before even opening her eyes, she reached out her hand to grab her phone from the bedside. After a while of searching, she couldn't find it. Opening her eyes, she saw her phone lying on the leisure table, three meters away from the bed.
She had clearly placed her phone next to the pillow last night, and Tristan must have thrown it over. It was his habit to keep his phone far away. Cecilia guessed that he was influenced by articles reporting the negative impacts of sleeping with the phone nearby. Despite being young, apart from work, his lifestyle habits were similar to those of an elderly person. Nowadays, which young person doesn't keep their phone by their bedside when sleeping?
Cecilia got up from the bed, put on her slippers, and walked to the leisure table to pick up her phone. She turned it on and checked the time. It was only 7:50. She felt like she had lost a fortune. Tristan being at home had definitely affected the quality of her sleep. On weekends, she could easily sleep until 11 o'clock.
She sat in a chair, holding her phone, and browsed through Weibo. As the time jumped to 7:58, her eyes lit up. She walked to the bed, stuffed the pillow under the blanket, creating an impression that someone was still inside. She took off her slippers, neatly placing them in front of the bed, and then rushed towards the bathroom, bringing up the clock interface on her phone, fixating on the seconds.
Fifty-eight, fifty-nine.
Eight o'clock sharp.
The bedroom door was pushed open on time. Tristan walked in from outside.
Cecilia held her breath, listening to his footsteps.
He's here, he's here. Tristan, with his old-man-like sleeping habits, is here to wake me up again.
Cecilia peered through the crack of the bathroom door and saw him standing at her side of the bed, his eyes lowered, lost in thought.
After a moment, he leaned down and gently lifted a corner of the blanket, revealing the hidden pillow underneath. He hesitated for a moment, then raised his arm, and pulled back the entire blanket.
"Are you looking for me?" Cecilia, leaning against the frame of the bathroom door, had a mischievous triumph on her face, "I'm already awake, you know."
Tristan turned around, showing no sign of embarrassment. His deep gaze locked onto her as he spoke in his usual calm tone, "Get ready, we'll have breakfast in the dining room." With that, he walked away.
"..."
Cecilia punched the cotton and clenched her teeth in frustration. An uninteresting man, what was he trying to prove? She pulled her hair up and began to freshen up. As she descended the stairs, she saw Tristan sitting on the sofa, engrossed in a finance magazine. Usually, it was Amelia who cooked at home, but Cecilia didn't see her in the living room, and there was no one in the kitchen or dining room. Tristan entered the kitchen and came out with two plates.
"Where's Amelia?" Cecilia asked.
"She took the day off..."
Cecilia stared at the sandwiches on the white porcelain plate. They didn't look like takeout, so did he make them?
"Did you make breakfast?" she asked.
Tristan nodded, placed the plates on the table, and went back to the kitchen. Cecilia quickly followed him and saw him spooning porridge into a bowl. His slender fingers held the bowl, with distinct knuckles visible. In the rising smoke, he seemed even taller and more impressive. Handsome and able to cook – he was truly an exceptional man. He filled a bowl with porridge, and Cecilia eagerly took it from him. Each of them carried a bowl of porridge and sat down at the dining table.
In the empty house, it was just the two of them. Cecilia took a bite of the sandwich – crisp on the outside, with a rich milky flavor. She couldn't tell if she was hungry because she hadn't eaten enough last night or if it was because she had no expectations for the meals made by this young master. The taste far exceeded her expectations, much better than any dessert she had eaten outside.
Cecilia and Tristan had been married for just over three months, and they were often apart. Only now did she discover that he knew how to cook. She finished the whole sandwich, feeling satisfied, as she glanced at the untouched one on Tristan's plate. Her strong pride wouldn't allow her to take food from someone else's plate. She held the spoon and sipped the porridge elegantly. "How long is Amelia on leave?"
"One day," replied Tristan.
Cecilia nodded and continued, "Do you have any work arrangements for today?" If he didn't have to go out to work and could cook such delicious sandwiches, then his other dishes should be just as good.
Tristan put down his spoon, wiped his mouth with a napkin, and said, "Grandfather called last night and wants us to spend the day with him. Are you free?"
Cecilia fell silent for a moment. The Harrington family's situation was much more complicated than the Sterling family's. Mr. Harrington was the former head of the NexaGlobal Group, a decisive and ruthless figure in the business world. He single-handedly founded the NexaGlobal Group and led it to its current success. He had three sons, and Tristan was the eldest grandson. The reason they still used the term "eldest grandson" in this era was because Tristan's father had two illegitimate children outside.
I heard that Mr. Harrington is not very satisfied with his three sons. Tristan, who has been by his side since childhood, is the successor he personally groomed. Six months ago, Mr. Harrington suddenly had a stroke, and Tristan took over NexaGlobal, bypassing his biological father and two uncles. His two uncles were furious, and it was because of this that Tristan was arranged by Mr. Harrington to marry her.
Mr. Harrington treated her well, and if possible, she would like to spend more time with him. However, other members of the Harrington family often made sarcastic remarks.
As if knowing her concerns, Tristan said, "It's just Mr. Harrington here, no one else."
He pushed an untouched sandwich in front of Cecilia, who pretended to ask, "Aren't you eating?"
She had already picked up the sandwich with her chopsticks, with no intention of actually giving it back to him.
Tristan noticed the oil shine on her rosy lips and a hint of amusement flashed in his eyes. His voice softened a little as he replied, "You eat."
He didn't say he wasn't hungry; he said "you eat."
This made Cecilia feel as if he would rather go hungry himself than let her go hungry. Cecilia stared at his handsome face, thought for a moment, and considered that it was her duty to accompany him home and play the role of a loving couple, as they had agreed upon.