My One-month Marriage With Mr. Hawkins

Silence blanketed the cabin. Except for two expressionless bodyguards sitting there like the background board, only Stanford and Phoebe were left there.

Stanford pressed his thin lips, looking at Phoebe with a complicated expression.

He frowned in regret and his mind was messy. He had heard what Addison complained just now.

He wondered if it was because he failed to coax Phoebe so he felt so irritated and angry right now.

Was it because of her?

Stanford shook his head in disbelief. He denied it. He wouldn’t ever become like this because of a woman.

He was sure that Addison was bullshitting because he was unhappy.

Stanford gritted his teeth, unwilling to insist on thinking about this topic. He directly looked away.

The cabin became completely quiet.

Phoebe was looked out of the window, and Stanford was staring at his tablet.

They didn’t interact with each other at all as if they were strangers sitting in the same cabin, and they would part after getting off the jet and not meet again.

Phoebe looked out of the window in silence, feeling sadder, bitterer, and lonelier.

She also realized more clearly that after they got off the jet and she met Florence, the last moment of goodbye would come.

No matter how many feelings she was feeling, there wouldn’t be any chance at all.

She felt helpless, and she felt more futile.

Stanford operated on his tablet, working on something that would gape Addison.

After twenty minutes, a helicopter flew over, flying in parallel with the private jet at the same speed.

Later, after they communicated with each other, the hatch doors were opened at the same time.

Feeling the wind flown into the cabin, Phoebe raised her head in confusion.

In a surprise, she saw Addison standing at the hatch door, pulling a rope.

She wondered what they were doing.

In confusion. Phoebe peered out of the window.

planes, there were two ropes,

pulled, the casserole was moving towards their private

unreliable conjecture

the other helicopter delivering the tonic soup to

way too... luxurious, wasn’t

imaginative to

casserole was obtained

there was a bowl of soup, and came

in front of Phoebe and said, “Miss Jenkins, please drink the soup while it’s warm. It’s quite good for your

at the tonic soup in front of her, Phoebe couldn’t believe that her

tonic soup was delivered by

held the bowl of tonic soup that was

“Thank you

immediately waved his hand and said with a smile, “I didn’t come up with the idea. Mr. Fraser arranged it in person. Miss Jenkins,

cast a glance at

his best not

was shocked and delighted. It turned out Mr. Fraser had finally become smart. He

big effort that showed his romantic care,

fool. When he truly cared about someone, he could do such practical

bowl in her hands

was more shocking than she got to know that the tonic soup

was Stanford who personally

twinkling. She looked at him with

Stanford could tell that she wanted to ask something but

stuffy tone, “I have a lot of helicopters. It’s just a piece of cake. Hurry up to drink your soup. It’s

the door of the operation cabin,

that Mr. Fraser

use a helicopter to deliver the tonic soup to another person, not to mention that the soup was hurriedly taken

Phoebe’s sparkling eyes instantly

that was just a piece of cake for Stanford as long as he gave a command. How could she insist on feeling that he treated

that herself was so pathetic as

bowl tightly,

down her head and slowly drank the

taste

dark, the private

there. After getting off the

in front of her, all surrounded

asked,

you the