The Cherished Wife

Charles's comment about finishing the meal had a hidden layer of meaning. No sooner had Noelle stepped outside with the basket than the doorbell rang, catching her off-guard. "Weird. Who would come by this late?" she wondered. The list of people who knew where she lived was not long: Charles, Ronald, the Shaw family, and Xavier. However, it did not make sense for any of them to drop by at this hour.

Curious, Noelle set the basket down and peered through the peephole. The figure outside made her do a double-take before she swung the door open. There stood Sean, looking sharp in a casual-chic way, glasses perched on his nose, a fruit basket in hand, and leaning casually against the doorframe. His smile was disarmingly sweet. "Hey, Noelle, it's been a while!"

Sean caught Noelle's eye and waved. She could not help but grimace before masking it with a polite, if not entirely genuine, smile. Swinging the door open, she greeted him. "It's been ages, Mr. Smith!"

After letting Sean in, Noelle glanced around for a pair of slippers before deciding against it. "Don't worry about the shoes. Come on in!"

Sean stepped inside with a grin, setting the fruit basket on the coffee table. "Nice. It's been half a year, and this place has such a different vibe now!"

in just a white

today?" Not spotting Charles, he wandered through the place, muttering, "That Charles has some nerve. He's the one who told me to

sight of Charles in the kitchen, knife in hand. "Hey, Charles." He chuckled nervously. "You might want to ease up

coming, he said, clicking his tongue always pegged you as the cold-hearted type, the one most likely to

Sean's spine. "Easy, I'm just messing around. If anyone's going to end up

kitchen, Sean spotted Noelle perched on a tiny stool by the garbage bin, sorting through veggies. He sauntered over, towering over her with his legs, crossed.

Grunt work?