When Josie woke up, it was already the afternoon. Grape wasn’t in the room, and faint sounds of laughter and playful commotion could be heard from downstairs.

It had been a while since the house had been this lively.

After Josie freshened up, she stepped out to see Lachlan wearing an apron, cooking in the kitchen as if it were his routine. Meanwhile, Grape was seated in her high chair, eating her meal and asking all sorts of peculiar questions.

“Mr. Lachlan, why don’t you ever come to visit me? Is it really more fun back home? More fun than Sumanthova?”

Grape pouted with a puzzled look on her face.

Lachlan responded in a childlike tone, “I was just busy with work, so don’t be upset, Grape. It’s only fun when you are around. Without you, it’s quite boring.”

“Really? What about mom? Do you like mom?”

Lachlan laughed. “Of course I like her.”

“Then why don’t you become my father, so I can see you every day?”

they discussed, the more absurd it sounded. Josie realized that the absence of a father figure from a young age made

speak without

about to say something when Grape angrily interrupted, “That’s not true. I want Mr. Lachlan

face darkened. “Stop

was usually busy, and coupled with the responsibility of caring for a child, she often didn’t have much patience. She generally gave Grape a lot of freedom, and fortunately, the

a child?” Lachlan intervened, placing the pasta

father, a role that no one else can replace,

tone was

thirty years old that year, possessing the charm of a mature man. He was

to one side, lost

lips, saying indignantly, “Where is my father

was at a loss for words. He glanced at

that your daddy is busy? Once

a half this year. It’s going to be a long,

Josie couldn’t help but chuckle. “Time will pass

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