Charlene's POV
When he said he would cook, he actually did.
The moment we got home, he went straight to the kitchen and started preparing ingredients like it was second nature. I stood there, stunned. Not only could Kerill cook—he handled the knife like a professional chef. Clean cuts. Precise movements. Confident.
"When did you learn to cook?" I asked, unable to stop myself as he sliced through the meat.
"Not when," he corrected calmly. "Why. Because I had to. I grew up with only maids around me, and I didn't like their cooking. My mom wasn't there… so I learned on my own. To survive."
I fell silent.
Until now, I still wondered why his mother wasn't around. What happened? Did she die? Did she leave for another man?
"She has her own family now," he said suddenly.
I blinked.
Was he reading my mind?
Before I could respond, I noticed the maids gathered by the kitchen door, grinning from ear to ear as they watched us.
"Yes?" I asked.
They giggled.
"Nothing, Ma'am Charlene. Please, don't mind us. Pretend we're not here."
I shook my head and turned back to Kerill—only to completely lose my focus.
He was wearing nothing but a sleeveless shirt and a black apron. His arms were fully exposed, muscles flexing with every movement.
I swallowed.
For some reason… I wanted to touch his arm.
It looked… tempting.
Stop it, Charlene! You'll just give him the wrong idea.
"Are you undressing me with your eyes?"
I snapped back to reality at the sound of his teasing voice. He was smirking.
The maids burst into laughter behind us.
"What are you talking about?" I muttered and moved to the other side of the table.
I was confused. Completely confused.
I didn't understand why he'd changed.
Had he softened? It felt like it. He kept messing with my head. I didn't know what to feel anymore. And I refused to show that I liked this new version of him.
Because I was scared.
Terrified.
Afraid that one day I'd wake up and he'd be cold again.
Afraid this was all just part of some plan—to make us look like a real couple in front of the judge. Or maybe he was only trying to change for the sake of his children… not because he was starting to feel something for me.
That thought hurt.
My chest tightened. I pressed a hand against it, trying to steady myself.
"Are you crying?" he suddenly asked.
I quickly wiped the tear that had slipped down my cheek.
"No. Hurry up. I'm starving," I said, avoiding his gaze.
After that, my mood shifted. I barely tasted the food he made. I knew he noticed.
"Is there something wrong with the food?" he asked.
I shook my head. "Nothing. My stomach just hurts."
Then I added quietly, "Thank you… for what you gave me."
"It's not from me—"
"Even so. Thank you. For being kind to me… even if it's just for a little while. Don't worry. I'm not angry anymore."
He paused.
"Good to know," he replied before continuing to eat.
I nodded.
I expected that answer.
It still hurt.
---
A few days later, I was relieved when Black called again. He'd finished his movie project earlier than expected and invited me to lunch.
I agreed.
But when we arrived at our usual restaurant, the guards blocked our way.
"What do you mean?" Black asked, echoing the confusion in my head.
The guard explained that we were banned. The new owner had specifically ordered that we were not allowed to enter again.
My brows furrowed.
New owner? Why ban us? Did we offend someone?
"May I know who the new owner is?" Black asked calmly.
"I'm sorry, sir. We're not allowed to say."
Black sighed.
"It's fine," I whispered, gently tugging his arm. "Let's just go."
"Tsk. Tsk."
He suddenly laughed under his breath.
"Is he really going this far? Hahaha."
"Who?" I asked.
"Nothing. Let's leave before I get killed here," he joked, pulling me along.
I didn't understand what he meant, but I didn't press further.
On the way back, I spotted a street food stall and immediately asked him to stop.
"Come on. This is delicious. I promise," I said, dragging him along.
My mouth watered at the sight—grilled intestines, betamax, kikiam, coconut juice. The smell alone was heavenly.
"Do you eat this?" I asked him.
He smiled and shook his head. "I'm not allowed."
"Please. It's so good!" I told the vendor. "Five sticks of isaw, two betamax, two kikiam—and two coconut juices."
But the vendor's expression suddenly changed.
"I'm sorry, hija. It's sold out."
"What? But there's still so much—"
"Someone bought everything earlier."
I frowned.
"It's okay, Charlene," Black said, holding back laughter. "You'll start a fight."
"But—"
"Let's go."
His phone rang.
The moment he answered, his expression changed.
"Is something wrong?" I asked.
"Charlene, I have to go. It's an emergency."
"Okay. Let's go."
"But… I won't be able to drop you off. I need to take another route."
I forced a smile despite the disappointment creeping in.
"It's fine. I'll take a taxi or call Saviel."
"I'm really sorry."
"It's okay. Go."
He drove off, leaving me standing there. I sighed and decided to call Saviel.
"Perfect timing, Ma'am. We're at the plaza nearby," he said.
"I'll come to you."
Why were they here? Did Kerill have business nearby?
After walking a few minutes, I spotted Kerill's car.
And Saviel… hauling bags.
"What's that?" I asked.
"Street food, Ma'am. Boss bought out every vendor in the plaza. I don't even know why—he doesn't eat this stuff."
My brows furrowed.
He bought everything?
Was he the one earlier?
"Saviel—"
I turned as Kerill approached. He looked just as surprised to see me.
"What's that for?" I asked, pointing to the containers.
"I—uh… I'm hungry," he stammered.
"I thought you don't eat street food?"
"Tsk. Who told you that?"
I pointed at Saviel.
"Me? I didn't say anything, Boss," Saviel said innocently.
"I eat it," Kerill insisted.
Why was he so defensive?
I was about to leave.
"Where are you going?" he asked.
"Home. I'll just take a taxi. Looks like you're busy."
"I'm hungry."
"So?"
"Eat with me."
"This?" I gestured to the mountain of street food.
"O-Of course!"
So I ended up sitting at the back of his car with him, the trunk open, surrounded by an absurd amount of street food we could never possibly finish.
I tried not to laugh as he stared at the isaw in disgust before forcing himself to take a bite.
"Do you really eat that?" I teased.
He quickly swallowed the whole stick.
"Is it that obvious?"
I shook my head and continued eating.
By the time we got home, I was completely stuffed. Street food was my weakness.
I was about to step out of the car when a suspicious sound—and a terrible smell—filled the air.
I slowly turned to Kerill.
His face was red.
"Did you just fart? That's disgusting!"
"It's not me!" he protested.
But his stomach growled loudly in betrayal.
"I need the bathroom!"
He jumped out of the car and nearly tripped running up the stairs.
Saviel chuckled behind me.
"His stomach isn't used to what you ate earlier, Ma'am."
I stepped out of the car.
Then I heard him mutter under his breath—
"That's what love does to a man."