Chapter 224
Dinner was unusually quiet. Luna White behaved like a timid quail, no longer daring to provoke Andrew Smith. The man learned too quickly—now the student had outdone the teacher, leaving her utterly subdued.
As soon as the meal ended, Luna moved to wash the dishes, but Andrew had already gathered the bowls with swift efficiency. The kettle on the stove steamed; he had prepared hot water for her bath long before.
"Go ahead," he said without looking up, his hands never pausing.
Watching his busy figure, warmth bloomed in Luna’s chest. A man like this—perhaps the heavens had sent him to compensate for the hardships of her past life. Even the side effects of her supernatural ability seemed subdued in his presence.
"Then I’ll go," she murmured, carrying the basin toward the bathroom.
Andrew intercepted her in one stride. "It’s hot. Let me."
"I’m not made of porcelain," Luna grumbled, though her heart swelled with sweetness.
"To me, you are." His tone brooked no argument. "Once we’re married, these chores are mine. A wife is meant to be cherished, not put to work."
Luna smiled, eyes crinkling. "You said it yourself." The coy look made Andrew’s throat tighten, nearly pressing her against the wall again.
Sensing the danger in his gaze, Luna quickly loosened her hair and fetched a stool to test the water. But Andrew took the ladle. "Let me wash it for you."
Before she could protest, warm water cascaded over her long tresses. His fingers combed through with perfect pressure, and Luna gradually relaxed, surrendering to his care.
Shampoo suds rinsed away bit by bit. Andrew wrapped her damp hair in a towel, handling her like precious treasure. The faint floral scent tangled in her strands made his breath hitch.
"Done," he said, voice rough. "I’ll heat more water. Dry your hair."
Seated in the living room, Luna barely registered the TV drama The Legend of the Condor Heroes. Her thoughts lingered on the figure in the kitchen. Being treasured like this stung her eyes with unshed tears.
When Andrew returned with a basin of warm water for her feet, he was already wearing his coat.
"You’re leaving?" Luna glanced outside. The wind howled; snow was forecast.
"Mm. Rest early."
She bit her lip. "It’s so late… Maybe you should stay." Her ears burned the moment the words left her mouth.
Andrew’s gaze darkened before he chuckled. "I’ll take the sofa."
By the time he emerged from the bathroom, Luna had brought out a quilt. Their eyes met—then darted away. The air hummed with the scent of shampoo and something wordless, electric.
That night, the storm rattled the windows, but nothing could dispel the warmth inside.