Cherish Turner awkwardly said "um" and finally reached out to take the cup, which seemed to still retain his warmth.
"Puff puff—" The soup pot was steaming.
"My soup." Cherish didn't have time to drink water and hurriedly rushed into the kitchen.
William Griffith silently watched her petite figure become exceptionally tall. Her bustling figure looked especially gentle and lovely, with a fatal attraction.
Finally finishing the cooking, Cherish served the dishes on the dining table. Three dishes and a soup, all homemade, unlike a five-star hotel. Removing her apron, she held it in one hand and a packed lunchbox in the other, standing at the entrance and saying, "I've finished cleaning, and the food is cooked."
William was sitting on the sofa smoking. He acknowledged her with a grunt. The door opened and closed; she left. He finished his cigarette and walked to the dining table. He picked up a spoon and took a sip of warm soup.